Chapter 8--Don't Dream, It's Over
Springwood
Maggie was in Heaven. Standing at the sink, washing dishes after dinner, the sounds of Doc and Tracy arguing amiably in the living room. Just like family. Family. That word hadn't sounded so familiar, so normal, to Maggie in years. Not since He'd entered her life and turned it upside down. But now, it fit just fine. The Survivor's Club had become Family, a true one. Maggie could live with that. She turned on the tap to rinse a glass she'd washed and splashed water on herself. Looking down at her soggy shirt, she chuckled as she remembered an old wives' tale her adopted mother had told her as a child. Unless you want a large family, Momma was fond of saying, keep your shirt dry, child. A wet stomach means lots of babies. Momma didn't know how that tale had gotten started any more than Maggie had, but they'd both been careful to keep their tummies dry while doing the dishes. Maggie's smile grew as she thought what life might be like, having a large family. Lots of kids. With Doc. Footsteps resounding through the house, lots of light and laughter and love. Tracy as doting older sister, giving advice and wisdom, cheerfully complaining about having to babysit, and adorable little faces with shades of her husband, phyiscal proof of their love. Maggie pictured it and laughed out loud, a full sound of sheer delight and unrestrained joy that she couldn't remember herself doing for forever.
Life was good, Maggie reflected. Other than that one nightmare several months ago, Maggie had had no problems. In fact, she'd flourished in the past few months. They all had. Tracy was doing much, much better in school now, determined to finish and go on to collage. She'd even gotten a part-time job at the local diner, and had met a nice boy there, Greg. He was in his freshman year of college and was a calming influence on Tracy. He'd been over a lot recently for dinner, chatting and laughing with the family, his cheerful face and gentle demeanor bringing out a gentle side in Tracy none of them knew she had. Doc had taken to the boy instantly; they shared a lot of interests. Greg had even gotten them to start going to services at the local non-denominational church. Maggie was glad. She herself had never much interest in religion, but she knew Doc, in spite of his protests, was an inherently religious man. And goodness knew that what they'd all been through together had brought them to believing in a higher Power. The change was good for everyone.
Doc was doing better than ever too. Maggie thought about her husband and laughed again. He'd come out of his shell and had stopped acting like his sole purpose was to protect "his girls" from evil. Maggie loved the sound of his laughter and his attempts to "beautify" the house for them. His woodworking projects were all over the house, cabinets and shelves and other bits and bobs. Tracy loved to pick on him while he sweated and cursed over each labor of love. And he was thrilled with Maggie's pregnancy. His handsome, craggy face wreathed in a smile every time he looked at or touched her stomach. When he wasn't working or fixing something around the house he was poring over pregnancy books, determined to share in each and every moment with Maggie.
With all the daydreaming of kids Maggie had been doing, at first she thought she was just dreaming them. There were kids outside, in her back yard, jumping rope. Maggie blinked, rubbed her eyes with her wet hands, then looked again. They were still there, dressed much like her mother used to dress her up for Church when she was little, all in Sunday best. Stiff white and startched ruffles; shiny patented leather shoes. Maggie's first thought was to wonder why the heck they were all dressed up like that to be playing outside; they were going to get all dirty! Her second thought was to wonder just what they were doing in her backyard when there were so many other, better, places to play. Her third thought was that somehow it all seemed so familiar to her, but she couldn't place the feeling. As she pondered this, one of the children playing outside turned to her. What happened next chilled her blood.
The little girl in lace and ruffles turned and looked dead into Maggie's eyes with a clear blue gaze; her shiny white-blonde hair flashed in the moonlight as the girl spun around. Her little rosebud mouth curved upward in a smile and she held out a tiny hand in invitation. "Maggie," she called out in a crystal voice that somehow sounded inside Maggie's head, "Maggie, won't you come play with us? He wants you to join us." Before Maggie's disbelieving gaze, the girl changed. Her skin, alabaster only a moment ago, blackened and crisped. Her hair crackled and fell away from her head, blowing on the breeze like strands of burnt cotton candy. Maggie shuddered at the imagry and opened her mouth to scream; nothing came out. She tried again as the girl took a step toward her, scorched flesh dropping from charred bones with every movement. Maggie heard laughter in her head, then that hated, almost forgotten voice purred in her ears again.
"Katherine," touched her inides while she squeezed her eyes shut, tears tracking down. "Blood is thicker than water, little girl. Look at it, look at it." Maggie kept her eyes glued shut, shaking her head wildly in denial. She saw in her mind's eye the glass she was still holding, it turned in her hand, splintering and regathering into a crystal image of an all-too-familiar glove. Hot, it was too hot in here and Maggie fought for air as the glass glove reached for her, digging into her palm. Four crimson lines bloomed in her hand as she squeaked in fear, her screams refusing to find voice...the only voice she could hear was the one in her head and it wouldn't let her go.
"Feel it, Katherine, look at it. The sins of the Mother...KATHERINE!!!" The lines became deeper, the pain was excruciating. The screams trapped in her throat found purchase then and Maggie screamed, screamed as the hateful glass glove crawled toward her wrist, dragging pain in its wake. The children giggled and jumped rope; Maggie turned her face to up and howled. She could hear voices behind her, concern and questions but God, they sounded so far away, they'd never reach her in time. Black spots appeared in her vision and grew, tempting her, promising an out. Maggie lept for the blackness, promising escape from this hell, a darkness that held no terror, no nightmares. She lept, and
"Maggie? Oh God, MAGGIE!!"
She saw Doc's face above hers, lines of shock etched into the face she loved so much. Arms reaching for her, but the blackness had wrapped its arms around her and wouldn't let go. Maggie gave in and Doc floated away.
