The two thirty-something siblings appeared in the dreamworld, falling from ceiling to floor.
Mike struck the floor with a loud thud; Alex bounced on an old mattress, the sharp, loose springs poking her ribs.
"Ow!" Alex yelped, rolling aside.
"Fuck!" Mike growled.
Mike pushed himself to his feet hastily, brushing dust from his clothes. Alex was sitting up at the edge of the rotten bed. Mike had short, blondish hair, blue eyes, and a powerful build. Alex had long, wavy brown hair, dark eyes and a taller, lanky frame. Only after a close look at their faces could one spot the family resemblance.
They each took in their surroundings in silence. The decrepit room, the cracked walls, the darkened bloodstains, the cobwebs, the shattered glass windows... the thin blade marks on the walls...
"Not here. Not this damned place!" Mike snapped.
He balled his hands into fists, a mix of fury and tension rising. His eyes darted around the room, knowing, expecting something to jump out at any second.
Alex was quiet. She sat at the edge of the bed, glanced around, then peered up at the light. A single bulb hung from the ceiling on frayed wires, emitting a weak, wavering glow. The overwhelming darkness was trying to kill that little light. Her eyes narrowed.
The light grew brighter, steadier, pushing away the shadows slightly. It was a small comfort in this awful place.
"That's better." She sighed.
"Well?" Mike asked after a pause. "Is he here?"
He had to defer to the one with better senses; Alex had more skills in the dreamworld than he'd ever developed. She would be able to sense the monster.
"Yes." Alex's expression hardened.
She stood from the bed and stepped carefully toward the doorway. Her fingers touched the deep knife marks cut into the old wood; she felt a familiar, malicious presence and her hand recoiled.
"Holy fuck," She hissed.
"What?" Mike stepped closer.
"It burned."
It didn't burn like fire, but instead like some terrible emotion made physical. Alex could already feel her heart beating a little harder in her chest. Mike clenched his jaw, then cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders.
"Okay. Weapons." He said.
Mike stuck his hand into his coat pocket and withdrew a handgun. He had learned to form things in dreams, with enough time and concentration. Alex reached into her sleeve and pulled out a curved dagger; her ability was more effortless, hardly a thought.
"Probably not the best choice." Mike commented.
"Then you get to go first." She challenged.
Shooting her a look that was first annoyance and then determination, Mike nodded and joined her in the doorway. He leaned out into the hall, scanning the shadows, holding his gun at the ready.
"Coast looks clear. This way." He stepped out.
"I was kidding..." She whispered.
Alex hadn't really wanted him to go first, but he was stubborn.
Mike had already moved out into the hall, walking toward the stairs. The old, decaying floors creaked beneath his steps. The rest of the house was filled with a dead, eerie silence.
Alex quickly took a step to follow, but shadows flickered across her vision, and the next second Mike was gone. Had he stepped into another room? Had something grabbed him? Fear shot through her.
"Mike!?" She shouted.
"Down here!" He called from the lower floor.
She hadn't even seen or heard him descend the stairs. The dreamworld was screwing with her perceptions. Her fear intensified; she could almost feel it squeezing her lungs, making it harder to breathe. She forced herself to take a deeper breath. She knew she had to stay as calm as possible.
"Wait for me!" She yelled after him.
Alex dashed forward and leaned over the balcony, letting out a semi-relieved sigh as soon as she saw her brother. Mike was standing in the front hall, gun pointed toward the darkened living room, edging closer to the shadows.
"Mike," She hissed more quietly, "Wait!"
"Quit freaking out." He sounded slightly irritated.
Mike adjusted his grip on his gun, continuing his approach on the living room slowly. It was darker there, the shadows ominous. He could feel something, and he was going to shoot it. Alex felt a growing dread in her gut. Mike was going to get hurt if he took another step and she couldn't let that happen.
Hardly thinking, she grabbed the railing and swung herself over the balcony, leaping to the floor below. Her feet hit the floor with a heavy thud, yet she was unhurt.
Freddy lunged out of the darkness at Mike, a flash of black, green, and red. Alex threw out her hand; time slowed, just enough for her to lock her fingers around Freddy's wrist and hold him back.
His blades snapped open inches from Mike's chest; he turned and caught Alex's shoulder with his bare hand, fingernails digging in. She spun and threw him into the wall with a force she could not have mustered in the real world.
The wall cracked from the impact. Freddy kicked Alex hard, throwing her back and to the floor. She landed on her spine, her dagger clattering out of reach.
"Playing rough already?" Freddy taunted, shaking a finger-blade at her.
She clasped her dagger as he closed in.
BANG. BANG.
Two deafening gunshots echoed. Both bullets pierced Freddy's skull and burst out other side with dark blood and brain spatter. He collapsed beside Alex, blades striking the floor, fedora askew.
"Headshot!" Mike shouted in victory. "Take that, you sick fuck!"
Alex scrambled to her feet, staring at the body as blood started to puddle around the bullet-shattered skull. He wasn't moving… though she thought she saw his bladed hand twitch.
"Shit," Alex gasped, backing toward Mike. "...thanks."
Mike grabbed her arm, pulling her a little further away from Krueger. "You okay?"
"I'm fine. You?" She turned, looking him over quickly. "He didn't-?"
She didn't see any torn clothing or blood, and felt an immense relief in that fact.
"Nah. Not a scratch." He smiled crookedly.
"Good. Now get out of here."
Mike's expression fell. "What-"
Alex didn't let him ask. She pressed her opened hand against his chest sharply. Wake up.
Mike vanished from the dreamworld. Alex felt both relief and apprehension. She wanted Mike safe, so she forced him awake. Now she just had to last on her own.
"Alexandrea." Krueger hissed.
She snapped her gaze back to Freddy, taking in a breath and standing taller. She had to be ready to fight.
The demon was standing, his bare hand clamped over his wounds, blood dripping down his face and neck. Yet his scarred lips were twisted into a nasty, red-toothed smile.
"Just the two of us now?" He sneered.
Alex didn't bother with a verbal response. She opened the fingers of her right hand, calling her dagger to leap from the floor at him. It misdirected, pushed by him, flying at her abdomen instead.
She jumped out of the way; the knife stabbed into the wall behind her. The edge of the blade had grazed her side, and she pressed her palm over the cut. Willing it to heal, she felt the sharp pain subside.
"Not as quick as you used to be." He chuckled. "Are you feeling your age?"
Freddy's bare hand shifted casually, adjusting the brim of his fedora. His wounds vanished, as if they'd never been. His bladed hand flexed, knives shrieking against each other. His rotten smile stretched wider.
She wanted to snap back at him, but he was right: they were too old for this. Krueger, on the other hand, hadn't aged a day. Maybe she'd last a few minutes, if she were lucky.
The room began to tilt, and though Alex started to slide, Freddy stood easily, defying the pull of gravity. Alex dashed along the wall as it started to become the floor, leaping through an open doorway only to find herself falling into blackness.
Stretching out her arms, feathers grew from her skin into wings and she began to glide. This was starting to feel familiar: her reflexive weaving of dreams. Every element could change in the most impossible ways.
She had to think fast. In dreams, he was more agile than anyone.
She heard his laughter too late. His blades slashed into her left arm and her wing was crippled. He fell past, vanishing into the darkness, cackle echoing. Tucking her arms inward and pressing her hand over the wounds, Alex fell faster.
Seconds later she splashed into dark water; the impact was shocking but at least it didn't break her. Surfacing, she gasped for air, then pressed her hand back over her wounds as she treaded water. She focused again; the pain dulled, the cuts started to heal.
A hand grasped her ankle and she was jerked beneath the surface. She peered down through the murky water to see the murderer grinning at her, blades reaching for her skin. She kicked his knife arm aside, her other leg flailing to free her ankle. She broke loose for a second, but he grabbed her wrist instead, pulling her deeper.
Her lungs were already crying for air as she struggled with him, catching hold of his gloved arm as he swiped for her again, desperately holding the knives at bay. His deep chuckle reverberated through the water as he dragged her down, down.
And she kept fighting, growing more frantic. The water became turbulent; the current pulled and swirled more violently until the two were yanked apart. She lost sight of him in the dark waters.
The scenery changed; she was swept from the dark sea into a massive red-stained swimming pool that was draining toward the bottom.
She tumbled through the water until her body struck the cement floor of the pool. She rolled painfully to a stop in ankle-deep water that continued rushing toward the drain. She coughed, inhaled desperate breaths of air, then struggled to stand, hands and feet slipping on the slick floor.
Freddy loomed behind her; she dove aside just in time to avoid being slashed by his blades. His knives struck the ground, grating harshly and sending a spray of water into the air.
She again tried to get on her feet, slipping in the shallow, moving water. Freddy snatched the back of her shirt but only barely; she heard and felt the fabric rip as she tore away. Then a reddish wave of water crashed into her, knocking her back to him. He hooked his arm around her neck; pressing the tip of his index blade against her temple.
"I'm gonna put a hole in your head…" He growled in her ear.
As she felt the blade starting to dig into her flesh, her right hand reached out. Her dagger reappeared in her grasp, and she jammed it through the wrist of his gloved hand. He snarled, recoiling from her.
Taking advantage of his temporary weakness, she scrambled free, her hand instinctively clutching the side of her head, once again trying to lessen the pain, trying to heal. Staggering away, she turned to face him.
He stood frighteningly still, eyes on her. The water had all drained away, the frothy, rushing sounds fading to soft dripping. The air grew thicker, steamy, like his boiler room; the colors ran an even darker red. His gaze never wavering, he took hold of the handle of her dagger, twisted it – it made a sick, fleshy, bone-scraping sound as it mangled his wrist – and tore it loose, splattering her with his blackened blood.
And he laughed.
Alex buckled forward as she vomited unwillingly, stomach acid spilling from her mouth and nose. Panting, she straightened, wiping a hand across her lips. It came away red with blood.
His laugh escalated to a cruel cackle. He closed his fingers around her dagger and the weapon turned to dust in his palm. He took a step closer.
Alex took a step back into what she thought was empty space and bumped against a solid wall. That wall had closed in, trapping her. Her head was spinning. Freddy lunged.
She slowed time just enough, and used the spare seconds to crouch and leap upward with all her might. Her fingers managed to grip the outer edge above them. She'd jumped over twelve feet to reach it, thanks to her dream-enhanced abilities.
Freddy slammed both palms against the cement wall. He looked disoriented for an instant, then his eyes lifted to follow his prey. He raked his blades against the wall viciously, drawing out an awful shriek and leaving thin lines in the concrete.
Alex glanced down, watching him draw back from the wall, his blades clicking rapidly. Turning away, she started to hoist herself up out of the pool, only to meet him again eye to eye. She froze there. He was crouched, blocking her escape, his face inches from hers, knives poised beneath her jaw.
Wake up. Wake up NOW!
Her fingers loosened their grip on the cement; taking a chance, she twisted away from his knives and threw herself backward into the pool. She fell.
Wake up wake up WAKE UP!
And she woke in her own bed, feeling burning in her throat, the searing pain of the bleeding wound at her temple, her skin and clothing drenched in water.
She jumped when her cell phone rang.