All right now, I know its been a long time since the last update, but as I informed you, our computers internet got zapped. The problem is still not completely fixed; the families' computer's internet works, but my computer, a dell, has to get sent in to be worked on. But the good news is that I can update.
In response to Darkness Takes Over's question, this story is set in the present, 2006; although you have to reel back in time a bit, because this is supposed to take place in the last couple of months of school, which would be in April or so. Other than that, takes place in the present time. I hope to make this a series of stories, which will be set in the future. As I continue the series, I will be creating an alternate world, which of course, will make more sense if the story is set in the "it could happen" atmosphere of the future.
Thank you Stayhooper, for your generous review. In answer to your questions, yes we will be seeing some past Nightmare characters, though many of them will be cameos. I'm glad you like Natasha, but don't get too attached to her. I better not say any more on that subject, for I will give things away.
One more thing, if you please, and then I will shut up and let you get to reading. As you may have noticed, I tend to jabber a lot. And you will see that this chapter is really long. I apologize for this. I had a huge brain fart (also called writer's block) in the middle of writing this chapter, and so I practiced what my writing teachers always tell me to do when brain farts happen: keep on writing! Write whatever comes to mind, even if it doesn't make sense or flow well. I tried to go back and refine and edit the chapter a bit when I had recovered from the brain fart, but some things I could not change, unless of course, I wanted to rewrite the whole thing. Not!
Okay, I'll shut up now…more of that jabbering thing again. Sorry…
Too Young
Chapter 3: Fallen Eagle
The final bell of the day rang sharp and jarring, resounding off the schools white, tiled walls. Students gushed out of every classroom and scrambled down the long, colorless corridors to the nearest of the numerous exits that led to the outside world.
Neil smiled to himself as the stampeding herd of teenagers trampled past the wide glass windows of Springwood High School's main office. He remembered when he was that young; when he was wild, carefree, and lived for parties. It seemed like so long ago, though really, in the grand scheme of things, not so long.
"You have excellent qualifications Mr. Gordon," declared Dean Stackhouse, the principal of the school. "So, you sat in on the class you are scheduled to take over," Stackhouse broke from the conversation to look at the papers laying on the front of his desk, "Psychology and a World History course. Please tell me, do you have any questions as to the procedures or grading scale our school offers? Any questions as to how the classes are to be run?"
Neil Gordon studied his interviewer, and if he got the job, his future boss. Stackhouse conducted himself with an arrogant air that didn't settle well on Neil's shoulders. It seemed to Neil that Stackhouse ran the Springwood High School like an Army camp: and he was the Drill Sergeant. He expected people to jump to his every command, and he never expected to repeat himself.
Frankly, Neil didn't care. He was here for one reason, and one reason alone; to live out the remaining couple years of his working life in relative peace. One might think that standing in a closed in space with a bunch of hormone driven teens would be anything but peaceful. But with the military air in which Stackhouse ruled this institution of education, Neil assumed the students would behave rather mannerly: they're to afraid to do anything other than behave.
"No Mr. Stackhouse, I don't have any questions," Neil answered in faked kindness. Neil may have to work for Stackhouse, but he didn't have to like him. "The current teacher stand-in, Ms. Robinson, did an excellent job of informing me to all of the fine points to how the school runs. I don't believe that I will have any problems."
"Very well then," Stackhouse announced as he slammed shut the final in front of him; Neil's file. "You will start tomorrow then, and that will allow the very kind Ms. Robinson to get back to her normal job around here. I thank you for considering Springwood High as your next place of employment."
Principal Stackhouse stood and offered his hand for Neil to shake, clearly wanting the interview to be over. Neil obediently stood and took the offered hand, granting Stackhouse's wish and ending the interview. With no more to be said, Neil turned to leave.
"One more thing if you please, Mr. Gordon."
Stopping just short of the door, Neil again faced his boss. The day had been long and hard, and tomorrow would be even harder. He wanted to go home and get some rest. But Stackhouse was his employer now, and Neil had to appease him.
"With your work history, I can't help but wonder why you didn't attempt to find a position in the nearby Westin Hills Counseling. You worked there once before when the facility was a psychiatry institution. Why not follow up, find employment there?" Stackhouse's eyes were questioning, almost suspicious.
Neil hesitated, not knowing how to respond, or even if he should. He had been surprised when this issue had not come up in his initial interview, but not disappointed. Neil would be quite happy if he would never again have to hear of Westin Hills or his former employment there. But the truth of the matter was, however, he would never escape it. There wasn't a day, a night that passed by that he didn't think of his time there. He was haunted by it, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Neil slowly raised his eyes to meet with Stackhouse's. "I'm not a doctor anymore, Sir."
Not wanting the topic to go any farther, Neil opened the door and left the office.
…
Libby Morgan crossed the final street to her destination, climbed the stone staircase, and opened the huge walnut doors that led into the Westin Hills Counseling facility. As the doors closed behind her, the sun filtered through the intricate Victorian style stained glass windows to spread beautiful rainbow-like colors onto matching Victorian floor rugs.
She continued down the long stone corridor, glancing curiously at the numerous marble busts sitting on delicate looking wood tables with lion's-claws feet, and the medieval designed tapestries hanging from the walls. Since its renovation a couple a years ago, Westin Hills had been redesigned to look somewhat like a castle. It was a design that many felt unsettling, for the ancient décor gave the one the feeling of being buried in time.
Libby liked the design. She couldn't exactly put her finger on why she liked it so, but it made her feel good. She supposed that it was the feeling of isolation that the ancient surroundings imposed on her, a feeling that nobody could see her. And of course, it didn't hurt that she liked history.
As she came to the end of the corridor, Libby was greeted by a comfortable sized waiting room. Thick burgundy colored curtains were tied back, allowing the evening sun to stream through the crystal clear glass and light the room with a warm hearted and welcoming aura. Libby was about to sit in one of the plush waiting chairs situated around the circumference of the room, when the receptionist called to her.
"Liberty Morgan, the doctor will see you now."
Libby nodded her understanding to the girl, and started down the adjacent corridor in the direction of her counselor's office. She knew the way well enough; she had been here to see Dr. Yin twice before since she and her mother had moved to Springwood nearly a week before.
Libby didn't even have to knock once she had reached the door for Dr. Yin called to her to open it. Once she had stepped inside and taken a seat, she waited patiently for her counselor to begin the session. She knew the routine well, for it was the same routine she went through with her old doctor in North Shire. She imagined it was the same routine that patient and doctor danced in every town, in every city and in every continent.
"So Libby, how's it going so far?" Yin started casually.
"I'm doing better, I think. I feel…more relaxed around people, I guess."
"That's good," exclaimed Yin, almost a little to enthusiastically. "And how do you feel around men?" she carefully ventured.
Libby knew that question had been coming, but it still hit a nerve. Libby lowered her eyes and stared at her hands as she began to fiddle with them. She was well aware of Yin's critical glare and she knew that Yin expected an answer. But it was hard to keep repeating the same words over and over.
"Libby?" Yin prompted.
Libby looked up to her counselor, conveying through her eyes all the things she could not bring herself to say. Nothing more was needed.
"I've kinda found a friend," Libby proposed, hoping to deflect the conversation to a topic she was a little bit more comfortable with.
"Oh?" Yin raised an eyebrow. "Please tell me about her."
"Well, her name's Suzie Hamilton and she's in my grade." Libby frankly didn't know much else about Suzie, but she hoped she could fake knowing someone. Her face fell with disappointment as she realized that Dr. Yin wanted a little more information about Suzie than what Libby was willing to give. "She's nice," Libby finished, lamely even to her own ears.
Yin pursed her lips and nodded her head. She made a small notation in the file she had in front of her, her own file Libby was sure. "I've got something I want you to see," Yin said as she finished writing and stood up from her desk. She made a motion for Libby to follow, "Please, come with me."
Libby hastily got up and followed Yin out of her office and down the corridor outside. Libby had thought that Yin was leading her to another office, and was surprised when Yin stopped outside of the women's restroom.
"What are we doing here?" asked a confused Libby.
Yin at first said nothing, only stared at Libby expectantly. When it became clear to her that Libby didn't understand her meaning, Yin prodded her, "Go on in."
Libby's eyes traveled to the restroom door and back to Yin. "Thank you, but I don't have to go."
Yin rolled her eyes and opened the door herself. "I know you don't, silly. That's not my meaning." She once again made a gesture for Libby to step inside.
Reluctantly, Libby stepped through the open door and into the pitch black room. She stood in the darkness, listening to the soft dripping emanating from a leaking sink somewhere in the black.
Without warning, Yin snapped on the light. Libby squinted her eyes from the cold brightness of the lights. When her eyes had adjusted, she knew immediately why her doctor had led her to the bathroom.
Mounted above every sink, were mirrors. Libby had no other choice but to look at her reflection. Her ashen face glared wide eyed back at her as she scrutinized her image.
An average onlooker viewing the fourteen-year old girl would have told her that she was a beautiful, well formed young lady. For as young as she was, she was mature. Her five foot five inch frame showed her womanly features well. She had an average sized bust with a slim waist. Her hips weren't tiny, but neither were they big; just about perfect. Her china-blue eyes shone brightly as light glinted off them, almost giving them a life of their own. One also would have told Libby, that her hair, shoulder length and blonde, looked close to the color of rich, sun-dried hay; wild and free in the wind. Her face was finely boned, and showed her German ancestry well.
But that wasn't what she saw.
As if reading her mind, Yin spoke up, "So, what do you see?"
Libby knew darn well that her counselor was testing her. She knew that Yin wanted to hear her say 'I see a beautiful, young, innocent girl'. But she also knew that was not what Yin expected to hear. Yin was seeing how she would respond, whether she would tell the truth, or give in to pressure.
"I know what I see," began Yin, "I see a still young, still innocent girl. Beautiful, kind, fun, respectful, and well mannered girl. But not someone who knows it. I see a girl who is afraid. Afraid of her past, afraid of the present, and afraid of what the future will bring." Yin came up to Libby and stood directly behind her, both of them looking at the reflections gazing back at them. "There is no reason for you to be afraid, Libby. Not anymore. You are not dirty, or repulsive. You are not bad, or evil. You are a normal, teenaged girl, no different from anybody else in this world."
The two were silent for a while, both letting the words sink in. When she finally spoke, Libby's voice was barely even a whisper, "That's not what I see."
"Then we have a long night ahead of us," Yin declared, keeping her voice soft, but sharply pointed.
…
Natasha ran her hands through her long, brunette hair and sighed tiredly. She was exhausted, and frustrated to boot. She had been working for three hours now, and was still no closer to finishing the report.
She took a long chug from her Coke, hoping the combination of the sugar and caffeine running through her blood would do something to awaken her. After finishing the can off, the fourth one this evening, she leaned forward and rested her elbows on the desk, re-reading for the tenth time the last paragraph she had typed, trying to figure out where to go to from here. "And so, thus ended the second Republican era in The White House," she repeated the words aloud to herself, hoping this would give her a jump start. It didn't.
She sighed in exasperation. This was the second one-nighter report that her government teacher, Mr. Hobbs, had given them this chapter. It was a practice he liked to do; make the class do an original five-paged paper over some obscure topic…in one night. The paper had to have everything included in it: a cover page, an outline page, and at least five sources. And it wasn't like she could just copy from an old library book, for he scanned each paper into The last thing she needed with one month left of her high school years was to have a plagiarism mark on her permanent record. That would really impress Harvard.
Shrugging, she closed her eyes and typed a couple of sentences she liked to call "BS sentences". This was a practice she did when she had nothing else to say and just blabbed on about anything and everything, hence the term BS. She was rather good at it actually; her teachers made it a point to compliment her on how well formed her sentence structure was. She thought it funny too, for most of the time, she blabbed about things that had no real relevance to the subject. But if her teachers liked it, she guessed it was good enough.
She stopped her typing as she heard the front door open. "Mom! Is that you?" she called downstairs. Her mother had been working late the last couple of nights; her job being the manager at the local bank was relentless, demanding all kinds of hours. "Mom?" she called again when she heard no answer.
She smiled to herself as she realized that her BS sentences were actually making sense. Good, now all I have to do is BS through the next three pages and I'll be home free. She was about to plunge into the paper again when the sound of a chair scrapping across the kitchen floor brought her back into the present.
"MOM?" Natasha cringed as the clang of silverware resounded up the staircase. What the hell is going on? Forgetting her half-finished report, she stretched her cramped legs and began making her way downstairs.
She had expected to see her mother sitting at the kitchen table, a half finished bottle of wine set before her, along with a bottle of aspirin for her headaches. However, when that scene failed to greet her as she rounded the corner to the kitchen, a feeling of nervous hesitation began to creep up on her normally calm composure.
What did greet her, however, was one of the strangest scenes she had ever seen. There, set in perfect style and formation, was complete dinner set for two. The dinnerware, the grandest china Natasha could imagine, held a meal fit for a king. It reminded her of her families Christmas dinner; only with more food. A rather large, overfed pig was in the middle of the table, a crimson apple wedged in between its teeth. Surrounding the pig, were several dishes of fruits and vegetables, slathered with rich-looking dressings. The outer-most ring of food was an assortment of desserts, the still hot fudge dripping on cakes and ice cream. Okay…this is weird.
Natasha was confused; there was no way one person could have set this intricate dinner by themselves. Only a couple of minutes had passed from the moment she had first heard the door and when she had finally decided to investigate the strange noises. Something like this would have taken a while to set up, not to mention the numerous cooks needed to prepare so much food.
Suddenly, it dawned on her. She rolled her eyes in disgust; this was nothing more than her friends playing a prank on her. Wasn't it just earlier today at lunch that a couple of her friends had told her that she needed to loosen up a bit. Natasha had no doubt that this fabulous meal was her friends' idea of a funny way to get her to relax. Natasha however, didn't find it very humorous. Her mother was going to have a cow when she came home. What was she going to do with all this food?
Heading for the phone, Natasha's mind reeled with what she would say to the friends who did this. She had an idea of who it was, and she was prepared to give them a tongue lashing like they've never experienced before. She picked up the cordless phone, and punched in the numbers with agitation.
"What's wrong dear? You seem mad?"
Mom? Natasha whipped around surprised by her mother's sudden appearance. She was about to apologize for the food and explain what was happening, but the words caught in her throat. She gulped, and dropped the phone, letting it impact the floor with enough force to send the batteries scattering across the white, marble surface. Natasha didn't notice.
Her mother sat at the table, her chair pushed in and swashing the wine glass she held in her hand. She was dressed in a fabulous red and green Victorian style dress, with white lace ruffles around the collar and sleeves. An enormous ruby surrounded by small, brilliantly cut diamonds shimmered from a gold chain which hung from her mother's neck. It was the most beautiful she had ever seen her mother, save for one thing; her mother's flesh was completely burned off. Her long, radiant dark brown hair had almost completely burned away, leaving only a few melted clumps of oily strings. She subdued the urge to throw up. My God…she looks just like…NO…I can't think of him!
"Natasha dear, why don't you sit down and eat a bit? We need to talk."
…
Neil Gordon sat reclined in his worn out Lazyboy and stared out into space. The TV blared, but Neil wasn't couldn't care less about the re-run of a Drew Carey episode. Rather, he was deep in thought, contemplating whether to continue sitting here, or go out. He was bored, and he was having trouble sleeping.
I knew coming back to this town was a mistake; he chided himself for the umpteenth time this past week. Ever since he had stepped foot in Springwood, he had been haunted by a feeling that he couldn't quite describe. He felt a presence, he was sure, but he couldn't distinguish between what could be his nostalgia from what could simply be the results of an overactive imagination.
Sighing tiredly, Neil got up from his comfortable position and took the remains of his meal, a TV dinner of what the box claimed was a Salisbury steak, to the kitchen. Opening the lid to the trash can, he dumped the contents of the black tray into the already half-full container, frowning in disgust as the "gravy" smothered soybean product made a sucking noise as it left the plastic tray. Oh well, you take what you can get, right?
Neil walked to his back door and gazed out into the night. The sun was just beginning to set, casting elongated shadows that stretched awkwardly across the ground. He smiled as the neighbors called to their children to come in from the approaching darkness. His smile broadened as the children, deep in their heated games of baseball, protested against being made to give up their close games. It's not like their in any danger. Not anymore, he reminded himself. She had made sure of that.
He closed his eyes as the rush of painful memories again threatened to overtake his senses. Against his own will, his mind once again traveled back to that night, so many years ago. He still, after all this time, couldn't understand why it was that she had to die. She saved the lives of countless others, yes, but at the cost of her own. Maybe, if I had believed her sooner, Nancy would still be alive.
Neil leaned forward and buried his head in the crook of his arm. This was the way it had been for nearly 20 years. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't erase Nancy's death, and the feeling that he was responsible from his thoughts. And maybe, that's the way it should be. They all tried to tell me; every single one of those kids tried to tell me that something was wrong. But I just wouldn't listen.
Rearing up from his hunched position, Neil quickly made up his mind. I've avoided that place long enough. I need to talk to her.
Grabbing his keys off the nearby mantel, Neil hastened out the door, and before he had a chance to change his mind, got in his silver car, and revved the engine. He had waited long enough; tonight he was going to visit Nancy Thompson.
…
"Come on Natasha, sit down and eat; the food is getting cold," her mother nagged again. Diane refilled her wineglass and stared at her daughter impatiently.
Natasha stared, wide-eyed at the corpse in front of her. So life-like was the image, that Natasha could smell the acrid stench of burnt flesh from across the room. That's all it is Natasha…an image, she thought to herself. My mother is fine. There's no way he can hurt her without my knowledge of it. But still, Natasha found it hard to convince herself that the scene in front of her was fake.
"Natasha," stiffly repeated her mother, "sit down and eat."
"No thank you mom," Natasha finally responded, "I'm not hungry."
Natasha cringed as her mother clenched her teeth, making what remained of her charred lips stretch across her blackened teeth. She had said something to piss off her mother, and she knew it.
"Not hungry? Oh I see…I see I have raised quite an ungrateful little bitch!" Diane stood up, fast enough to nearly pull off the tablecloth, and began to pace back and forth. "You know, I try to be a good mother, try to raise you as best as I can and look how you repay me. You're not hungry!" She grabbed the butcher knife sitting beside the pig.
Natasha didn't know what to think. This mirage was definitely not her mother, but where was Freddy? He has to be around here somewhere…It's not his style to be absent from his little games.
"I guess he was right about you," Diane spat at her daughter.
"Who was right about me? Over what?" She had a feeling that she already knew whom her mother was talking about, but Natasha wanted to confirm it. Besides, stalling was allowing her time to figure out what was truly going on.
"It's none of your business who," Diane raised the knife she was holding. "The only thing you have to worry about now is whether or not your ready for your final judgement."
Natasha's mouth fell open as her mother began to charge her, holding the knife aligned to her throat. Without a second thought, Natasha lounged forward, grabbed a nearby butter knife, and hurled it at her mother with all of her strength.
The knife hit its mark. Five strides from Natasha, Diane halted and teetered, looking absolutely confused as to what just happened. Slowly she reached up to her head, and gingerly let her fingers explore the knife's handle protruding from her forehead. "Natasha, that wasn't very nice."
Recovered from the initial shock of having her mother threaten her, Natasha clenched her fists and gathered herself up for a fight. This must be one of Freddy's pawns. It should be easy enough to kill. She began to feel her power circulating through her blood, spreading over every inch of her body. She just hoped she wouldn't have to use much of it tonight, for she was still spent from her fight with Freddy's aura the night before. Her fingers had healed well enough, but were still tinder. A pawn she could fight, but not the Dream Demon Himself.
Diane began to laugh. Natasha winced as the laugh's tone rose higher and higher, shaking the glasses on the table and sending tiny splinter-like cracks through the rooms windows. Natasha covered her ears and shut her eyes, fearing her eardrums would burst from the screeching.
Suddenly, the ear-shattering laughter stopped. The glasses and dinner ware quit shaking and once again, the room settled into a peaceful rest. Natasha uncovered her ears and opened her eyes, assessing the damage. Numerous pots and plates were upset and a few glasses had split, spilling their contents over the table.
She looked around for her mother, and spotted her in the same position she had been in before the otherworldly laugh; standing about seven feet from her. Natasha looked around her, searching for anything that she could use in her own defense. Spotting a broom, she grabbed it, broke off the end, and twirled her new weapon around her body, daring the pawn to attack.
Diane smiled; not a caring and loving smile one would expect from a mother, but one of pure evil. Natasha doubted whether the devil himself could imitate a better smile. She watched in apprehension as her mother once again reached for the knife's handle. Without hesitating, she jerked the knife free of her skull, allowing blood to spew and ripping out clumps of brain.
Natasha recoiled from the grisly scene. She had seen plenty of repulsive images in the past six months, but seeing her mother, burned and blackened and bleeding from a wound that also oozed with brains, topped it all.
It was then that her mother's body began to change. Diane's womanly figure morphed into a more stout, masculine body; her dress re-formed into a plain green and red stripped sweater; the form grew a bit taller. In a matter of seconds, Natasha was standing only feet from Freddy Krueger himself.
…
Neil Gordon drummed his fingers against the steering wheel in anxiousness as he weaved his way through the streets of Springwood. He wasn't far now; he knew his destination was only a couple more blocks.
With each rotation of the tires, Neil's apprehension grew ten fold. Maybe this was a bad idea. I don't think I'm ready to see her again. Shaking his head, Neil drove the thought from his mind. I have to do this. I need to put the past behind me. However, knowing that didn't make the task that lay before him any easier.
I'm here. Neil pulled his car to the side and parked along the curb. He sat there, still and unmoving for ages, hardly even allowing himself to breathe. She'd understand if I just turned around and left, I know she would. She'd know I tried. Neil's hand inched back up to the key, ready to turn it and get the hell out of there. As his hand inveleped the small, metal key, he closed his eyes and envisioned her face, willing Nancy to help him.
There she was, beautiful and lovely as ever. Her lush, brown hair cascaded around her shoulders; a hairstyle that perfectly framed her finely boned face. Her intense cerulean blue eyes shone as beacons in the moonlight. She smiled at him, a smile that captured his heart from the very first instant they had met.
He could have gone all night sitting there, envisioning her there, with him. But it was not to be. He could see it in her eyes; she wanted him to come to her. She wanted him to face what he had been running from for so long. She wanted him to do it now, tonight, and not wait any longer.
Shoving the car's door open, Neil stepped out, walked around the car's front, and began carefully walking down the steep slope into the Springwood cemetery.
…
The two of them stood there, sizing the other up. Each was attempting to detect any weakness from the advisory standing only feet away. Each was hoping to intimidate the other into submission. Neither one of them advancing, but neither were backing down.
Freddy broke the silence first, "I know you're weak, Keeper. Your power has been evaporating for some time now. You're getting weaker, while I'm getting stronger. It seems you just don't have what it takes to do this job."
Now it was Natasha's turn to clench her teeth, "Would you like to bet your life on that, Demon. I may surprise you yet."
"No Natasha, I think you've about run your course. The power has just about abandoned you," Freddy sneered. "You've never quite figured out how this works, have you?"
"Why don't you explain it to me then," Natasha snapped.
Freddy's voice edged sharply with mystery, "Naturally I would, but I'm afraid that a more pressing mater demands my attention…and should interest you as well."
Natasha didn't respond. She suspected that Freddy was attempting to distract her, trying to divert her attention elsewhere so he could catch her unawares. She had no intention of allowing him the pleasure of taking her by surprise. She stood her ground, concentrating solely on the dream demon standing before her.
"You see, it comes to my attention that three of your school friends have just climbed into a four-wheel drive SUV."
Natasha's eyes widened; Brittney's family had just bought an SUV. She had driven it to school the last few days, showing it off and giving rides to classmates. Springwood wasn't known for its citizens being well off, money wise at least. An SUV was a valuable edition to the town. She knew of no other friends who owned a vehicle that size.
"They got in drunk… and looking for a good time," Freddy continued, soaking in every bit of Natasha's ever growing look of desperation. "How about we give them a very good time?"
"Don't you da…" Natasha didn't have a chance to finish her threat, for Freddy tauntingly waved his claws and vanished from her sight.
"Shit," Natasha muttered, realizing that Freddy had just used her to bring her friends into his dream world. She cursed herself for letting it happen; not bringing her friends into her dreams was a skill she had never mastered, and it had cost some of them their lives. She couldn't let anything happen to Brittney or any other friend this night; she wouldn't let anything happen.
Turning on her heal, Natasha ran for the nearby cabinet, dug until she had found her car keys, and sprinted out the side door and into the garage. She headed for her car, threw the door open and launched herself inside, thrusting the key hard into the ignition.
She was about to turn over the engine, when suddenly, the car completely disappeared. Without a seat to hold her weight, Natasha fell over two feet, and hit the pavement hard, sending bolts of pain shimmying up and down her spine. "Damnit," she gasped, knowing that it was Freddy who had erased her car from existence. He was right, she realized in an instant of horror, He is stronger than I am. He made my car disappear to make it harder for me to reach Brittney.
Not having any other choice, Natasha pushed her pain to the back of her mind, leapt up onto her feet, and began running down the street. She opened her mind and scanned the town's perimeters, searching for the location of her friends. As The Keeper, Natasha had access to many unnatural powers, one of them being able to locate anyone at any time in the dream world. This helped her in protecting individuals from Freddy, as well as aiding her to find Freddy, wherever the demon was lurking.
Before long, she had the location of Brittney and smiled in victory.Brittney was only two streets away, heading fast in Natasha's direction. She banked sharply to the right, cutting down a side street and hopping this would allow her to intercept the racing SUV a bit faster. She willed her power to carry her faster, feeling the ancient energy racing through her blood, spilling into her limbs, and pulsating through her heart. Somewhere, the vast space of her mind, she heard the scream of the eagle, and it filled her with hope. She knew that with the help of her native spirit, she would accomplish her goal and succeed in kicking Freddy's ass all the way back to hell.
After cutting through a couple more alleys, Natasha skidded to a stop in the middle of Orange Street. This is the street, I'm sure of it. She quieted her breathing, listening hard for the sound of an approaching vehicle. There…it's Brittney all right. About a hundred feet away, a dark green Ford SUV careened around a corner, and sped straight for Natasha's position.
The SUV continued its rampage down the street, gaining speed and every once in a while, jerking slightly to keep in its own lane. Natasha did nothing but stand her ground. She had no fear of the vehicle, for it was driven by a close friend. About thirty feet from Natasha, the SUV braked hard, the front bumper nearly touching the ground, and skidded loudly down the street. It slid for a good twenty feet, before finally coming to a rest, smoke radiating from beneath the tires.
The driver's side door opened, and a girl's head protruded from the bright interior. "Hey you hot foxy! What are ya doing at this time of night?" Brittney's voice strained to shout over the blaring music emanating from her fiber-glass sound system.
Natasha was already at the door, climbing onto the ledge, "MOVE OVER!" she shouted, knowing there was no time to lose.
"What! What do ya mean 'move over'?"
"Brittney, I don't have time to explain! Just move over," Natasha pushed Brittney aside, knocking her into the passenger seat, while jumping in behind the wheel. Once inside, she gagged on the heavily fermented air. She could barely breathe; the air was so intoxicating. "What have you guys been doing? Washing the car out with beer!"
"Well, what do you expect, Natty," replied Joe Orvan, another senior Natasha was friends with. "It's 'Almost Friday'!"
"Hey! What are you doing?" shouted Brittney as Natasha floored the huge, four-wheel drive all-terrain vehicle, causing every one of the passengers' whiplashes as they became glued to their seats. "What's the rush?"
Natasha, preoccupied with trying to save her friend's lives, ignored the numerous questions being thrown at her, "Everybody just shut up for a minute!" she exclaimed, attempting to keep the anxiety from her voice. The last thing she needed right now was for her friends to become frightened, unintentionally giving Freddy more power.
"Hey Natasha, there's no reason for you to drive like a made woman to the liquor store," offered Jordan, "I've got a few extra cans right back here!" He held up a couple unopened cans of beer, clearly proud of himself.
"Hey! I'm not kidding! Everyone shut the hell up, okay. Your lives are in danger," so much for trying to keep them calm, Natasha mulled.
"Stop shitting with us!" screamed Joe, as Natasha sped around a sharp corner, nearly turning on two wheels. "This isn't funny anymore," he whined, while rubbing his elbow which had smashed into the window on the turn.
"Natasha, what's going on?" Brittney calmly questioned. She knew there must be a good reason for what Natasha was doing. Natasha wasn't one to play practical jokes.
Natasha didn't see any way around telling them the truth. Oh God, they're going to think I'm nuts. "Look, I know this is going to be hard to believe, but right now, you're all asleep! You need to wake up! If you don't, you just might not wake up at all!"
"ASLEEP MY ASS!" Joe was hysterical now, "PULL OVER NOW!"
"I can't!" Natasha fired back, "We have to keep moving!" She made a hard left hand turn and pulled onto Sycamore street, heading east, "If we stop, it makes it easier for him to find us."
"Who's 'him'?" Jordan questioned from behind the driver's seat. Like Brittney, he had known Natasha for quiet some time, and knew that this was not her usual demeanor.
I've gone this far, might as well continue. She stole a glance at Brittney, seeing her friend's face growing white, "do you remember that old jump-rope ditty? You know, the one about the murder?"
"You mean the one about the Slasher? Yeah, I think I remember that tale?"
Yeah, if we survive this, they're going to lock me up in an institution. "It's not a tale…It happened." Natasha prayed that her friends would not question her further; she wasn't looking forward to telling the whole Freddy 101 story."No, I was wrong, you don't need any more beer…YOU'VE ALREADY HAD A FEW!" Joe was angry now, tired of the rollercoaster ride Natasha had forced upon them. "It's just a little jig…it means nothing!"
"I thought that song was made up by our parents, and their parents when our parents were kids and so on. I thought it was created as a bedtime story to keep kids in order, ya know that 'be good or the monster will eat you' kinda the thing," offered Brittney, attempting to be the peacemaker.
Natasha sighed, frustrated, "No, it's not a bedtime story."
"What do you mean by that?" Jordan tensely asked.
Natasha didn't respond. Nor did she make any attempt to quell the fear her friends were emanating…for it was too late. Natasha's senses pinged in unison, informing her that something was amiss. He had found them.
"Yo, Natty, what did you mean by that?" snapped Joe, attempting to snap Natasha out of whatever trance she had meditated herself into.
Natasha closed her eyes, a dangerous thing to do at sixty-plus mph. She took a deep breath, slow and deliberate, as if it were her last, "I believe you are about to find out."
Her friends all turned to face her, just as the pavement underneath the SUV erupted and launched the huge vehicle skyward.
…
The night was cool and pleasant, almost tranquil. The moon, casting its bright, bluish-silver beams, shone like a solitary beacon in the heavenly sky. The strange colored light illuminated the fine white marble of the headstone, making it glow with its own life.
Neil gazed down at Nancy's grave, nervously debating what he should say. "Hi," Damn that was lame, "I uh…I fear that I've waited too long to do this…to talk to you I mean."
He stopped talking and fidgeted with his hands, trying to put into words what he had been feeling all these years. "It's been twenty years, Nancy, and I've never…not even once really thought about what happened; about your death, and …and what you died for."
He turned away from Nancy Thompson's headstone, which to his humiliation was located right next to her father's grave, the former Lt. Donald Thompson; another death he was responsible for. "I feel so…so ashamed, Nancy. I ignored…no…I chose to reclassify what those kids were going through, simply because of my close-mindedness. Then…I chose to shove you off when you tried to explain to me what was truly happening."
He tuned back towards her grave, addressing not only Nancy, but her father as well, "I'm responsible for your deaths. And to top it off…after it was all said and done…I never once said 'thank you'. You scarified your life for the kids of this town…to make sure they would be okay. You might have even saved the lives of hundreds more, for who knows what…what…he…would have done if he got passed you…if he got passed the kids."
Neil, close to tears, broke off from his confession, and gazed down the many rows of markers. At the very end of the cemetery, stood a statue of the Lord Jesus Christ, his arms open, welcoming his sleeping children to their peaceful rest. "Afterwards, I thought I had found religion…but in reality, I only became more confused. I kept asking myself…why, why did it have to be you? Why did you have to die?"
Overwhelmed by feelings of remorse and regret, Neil fell to his knees on top of Nancy's grave.
…
"HOLY SHIT!"
"WHAT WAS THAT NATASHA?"
"GET US OUT OF HERE!"
Natasha couldn't think. Her friends were screaming all at once, all distracting her from her concentration. It was imperative that she concentrate all her power on locating Freddy. She couldn't do that with everybody yelling at her.
"EVERYBODY SHUT UP AND HOLD ONTO SOMETHING!" she strained to overcome their cries with her own. The SUV was coming in for a hard landing, being sent up in the air at least thirty or forty feet. With a bone rattling crunch, the front of the Ford smashed into the road, completely caving in the hood. All within was thrown forward, coming to a sudden, jolting stop due to the seat belts…all save for Natasha.
She had not bothered to strap on her seat belt upon entering the car, and now was lifted up and over the steering wheel column and right through the windshield. The force of hitting the pavement knocked every once of air from her lungs, and caused her body to scream in pain.
Hearing the groan of steel, she put her pain aside and glanced back up the car, seeing it in slow motion as the SUV fell forward, threatening to fall right on top of her. Gasping for as much air as her injured lungs could withstand, she rolled as far away from the mangled wreck as her shattered body could move. With the windshield shattering, the car settled onto its roof, rocking unsteadily back and forth, till it found a comfortable resting place.
All was silent; nothing moved, nothing made a sound for what seemed like eternity. Natasha used the time to glance back at the broken pavement behind the car, seeing the arched folds of the man-made stone lying in awkward, scattered positions. It looks like some creature just launched itself up and through the pavement. Great…a Freddymonster.
Movement from within the wrecked vehicle caught her attention. "You guys okay?" she called to her entombed friends, hoping they had escaped the crash relatively unscathed.
Long seconds passed by before a muffled response answered her call, "We're alright. We need some help in here!"
Heaving herself from the ground, Natasha limped her way to the driver's side, kicking in the window and getting down on her hands and knees. Peering in she asked, "Is anybody hurt?"
"What do you think?" Joe snapped, apparently still angry at her.
Brittney moaned, "Hurry up and get us out of here before it explodes or something."
Natasha began inching her way forward, crawling into the mangled interior. "Oh, by the way, Natasha," Brittney's voice stopped her movement. "I'm not letting you drive…ever again."
Natasha smiled at her friends' ability to make jokes at this critical moment. "Darn, I was so looking forward to driving your Chrysler 300."
Suddenly, the floor of the SUV, now serving as their roof, sank in from the middle. Screams erupted from each of the trapped passengers, breaking the night's silence. The torn and tattered seats bore down on them, becoming blunt but still deadly battering rams. What remained of the vehicles windows shattered, splintering under the growing pressure of the imploding compartment.
"JESUS GET US OUTA HERE!" came Brittney's shrill scream, her composure finally reaching its limit. Franticly, she tore at her seat belt, attempting in vain to break in off in order to free herself.
Reaching over the wide void of the driver's side, Natasha grabbed hold of the strap, and in one fluid motion, snapped the belt restraining her friend. Avoiding the paths of the crushing seats, she snaked her way into the back and did the same to Jordan's and Joe's belts.
"What the hell is going on here, Natasha!" Jordan demanded, just as the SUV's thick, treaded tires popped simultaneously. They all crouched low, trying to escape from whatever force lay on top of the car.
"We need to get out of here!" cried Natasha, knowing full well that staying inside the vehicle, with all the splintering parts and increasingly compressing area, would be quite literally suicide.
"WHAT! And go outside! Out in the open!" Joe's eyes were wild, almost animal-like.
"Whatever's outside is not even as close to as dangerous as staying in here!" Natasha fired back, knowing full well that what she had just spoken may not be true. She knew what awaited them out there, in the black of night. There really was not a lesser evil in this circumstance, but she saw no other choice in the matter. It was face whatever horror Freddy was to throw at them, or stay inside the car and be crushed. "Come on! I'll lead the way!"
Crawling over Jordan's legs, Natasha cautiously poked her head out of the window, and peered around. Nothing stirred in the surrounding area, and despite all the commotion on top of the SUV, nothing was there. It was as if the very air surrounding the car was what was attempting to kill them.
Not wasting any more time, she pulled her way through the window, ignoring the cuts the small fragments of glass along the frame caused her, and motioned for her friends to follow.
Having no other choice but to trust their friend, the rest followed suite, quickly clearing the death trap which at one point, used to be a very expensive and glamorous edition to Springwood. Once all outside, the group of friends backed off from the vehicle and watched as an invisible hand clenched and completely obliterated the car. If they had stayed inside, they would all be dead for sure.
All looked on, attempting to catch their breath. "Well, that was fun," Jordan gasped.
Metal crunched behind them, breaking everyone's trance. All whipping themselves around, they searched for the source of the sound, wondering what other horrors this night was to offer.
There, on a car rooftop crouched the source of the noise. A long, vibrating growl emanated from the creature that scrutinized them, eyes glowing a strange gold. Talons the size of butcher knives scraped the aging paint, creating long, deep grooves in the cars surface. Saliva dripped from a gaping mouth, full of jagged razor-like teeth. A shaggy coat the color of smoke rippled over bugling, taut muscles. A tail, alive with dozens of slimly snakes, whipped the sides of the beast, flashing their elongated fangs and split tongues at the four repelled onlookers.
Natasha gaped at the devilish wolf-like creature, seeing the murderous intent gleaming in its other-worldly eyes. The creature shifted, causing the old car to whine in protest under the hound's weight. She took a long, deep breath and prayed as she boldly stepped forward, putting herself in-between the creature and her friends.
"What do you think you're doing?" whispered Brittney, barely being able to suppress her panic.
Natasha stared into the creature's dead orbs, knowing full well what or better put, who this really was, "My job."
Screeching from behind them caused them all to re-direct their attention. Three half-human, half-zombie like creatures had been sneaking up on the group, circling and trapping them where they stood. Blood and pus leaked from every bodily opening, staining what little bits of clothing covered their ghost-like, almost transparent skin. Pawns!, Natasha's mind screamed the word, as she gazed into their empty, milky eyes. She recoiled as she realized that one of them looked vaguely familiar. Mark? She swallowed vomit as she gazed upon what used to be her boyfriend.
"Natasha?" Jordan ventured tentatively, as if the very action of talking would provoke the zombies or hound into attacking. "You, uh…have any ideas here?"
Natasha looked from the hound to the zombies and back to the hound. She would bet her life that the hound was none other than Freddy himself, and she was well aware of the fact that she didn't have the strength to fight him again, not this soon. That left the pawns. She could take them easily enough, but she had no doubt that while she was facing off with them, FreddyHound would attack her friends. If she engaged FreddyHound, the pawns would be the ones to attack her friends. There was no easy way out.
Finally she made her choice, "You do whatever it is that you have to." She met the gazes of her friends, seeing the utter confusion registering on their faces. "Try to live, protect each other."
Not sure that she wanted to hear them respond, Natasha turned and charged the devilish wolf, leaving them to deal with the pawns. The FreddyHound howled before leaping off his perch, running pell-mell to meet her attack head-on.
Her friends watched in horror as Natasha and the hound ran towards one another. When the hound raced through a patch of moonlight, they gasped in unison as its smoke-colored coat shimmered red and green.
Natasha called upon the last of her strength as she prepared to ram into Freddy, knowing that however this battle turned out, it would end quickly. The distance between them grew shorter with each stride they took, until finally, they were mere strides from each other. Just as Natasha was about to pull her arm back for what she hopped to be a stunning punch, FreddyHound gathered himself up, and launched himself completely over Natasha's five foot eight frame, avoiding her attack.
"COME ON! WE HAVE TO HELP HER!" cried Joe, realizing for the first time this night, that Natasha had been telling the truth.
He prepared himself to join in on the fight, when he suddenly felt a cold, wet hand grip his wrist, wrenching him to a sudden stop. He turned around to see who had stopped him, fully expecting it to be either Brittney or Jordan. His heart grew cold and he broke out in a clammy sweat as his eyes traveled up the translucent arm, all the way up to the grayish-white eyes of one of the zombies. He opened his mouth to cry out for help, but nothing came out. He franticly looked around for the others, and his hopes fell as he caught a glimpse of Brittney and Jordon, each attempting to fight off their own zombie, and too busy to worry about anyone else.
Joe reeled back his free hand and landed a punch to the zombies head. When his punch resulted in sheering off the zombies jaw, Joe wasn't sure if he should smile in satisfaction, or gag in disgust. The corpse, apparently not affected by the impact, twisted Joe's arm, breaking it in one fluid motion.
Joe cried out in pain as he felt every bone in his arm shatter. He fell to his knees and did his best to cradle the useless extremity. Looking back up at the face of the mutilated zombie, Joe watched in horrid fascination as the zombie, seemingly in slow motion, pulled back both arms, and swung them down with bone crushing force.
A scream punctured the night as Joe's body fell to the ground and didn't move. Natasha had watched the horrific scene play out before her, as if she were watching some terrible movie. She had watched, only forty feet away, but still not able to do anything to save her friend. Only watch; like so many other deaths, she could only watch as good people were cut down before their time.
A cruelly gleeful laugh brought Natasha back to reality, forcing her to forget about Joe, and concentrate on her duty. Enraged, she spun to face the Demon who had caused her so much pain over the last six months; the Demon responsible for so many deaths: her little sister, her boyfriend, Mark, Joe, and so many countless others. As her eyes met Freddy's she felt more power than she could ever imagine pulsate through her body. A rush so powerful, that she was nearly intoxicated by it. This is it; I'm not letting him take anyone else away from me.
"Oh my goodness, Natasha. I hope I haven't made you mad." He spoke to her condescendingly, mocking her hatred. Freddy had transformed himself back to his original form, his goal of scaring her companions obtained. Natasha knew that he had only appeared in the devilish-hound form to scare her friends and feed his power. Because of the fear her friends had emanated, Freddy's power was at full strength, and they both knew that he only needed half of that strength to finish her off.
She snarled, all the rage at the point of boiling over, "You…son of a bitch!"
"Now, now, now, Natasha. We wouldn't want you to lose your temper now would we?" he teased, waging his clawed finger in the air as if disciplining a naughty child. "I thought you had better manors than that."
Natasha had had enough, "SHUT THE HELL UP!" She lunged at Freddy, intending to tackle him to the ground and beat him to a bloody pulp.
Faster than she could have ever imagined, Freddy grabbed hold of her before she had the chance to finish her move, and slammed her into a nearby electric poll, causing her head to ricochet violently as she went limp. The force behind the impact sent sparks flying off in every direction, until finally, the electric box caught fire.
Freddy didn't do anything for what seemed like hours, but in reality, must have only been a few seconds. Finally, he spoke, "So long, my dear," Freddy raised his razored hand, and with one quick, flawless swipe, he drew his claws across her exposed neck, severing her jugular.
He let go of her, letting her fall to the ground in a heap. With her last few breaths, she tried to see what had happened to her friends, God, please let them be alive! Please don't let me die in vain! It took several seconds for her blood deprived eyes to focus well enough for her to see the distance to where her friends had been When she had finally brought them into focus, her heart cried in anguish. Both Brittney and Jordan, having lasted in their battle with Freddy's Pawns longer than Joe, had finally succumbed to the mindless corpses. Like Joe, they too lay on the ground, their bodies broken and bloody.
Vaguely, Natasha was aware of Freddy as he stumbled, and held his hand over his heart, as if suffering from a heart attack. Just before she closed her teary eyes, she saw him just as he collapsed to his knees. For some strange reason, Natasha suddenly thought back to something Freddy had told her the night before: We are one in the same. She began choking; drowning in the own blood.
…
Tears spent, Neil Gordon rose from his bent position over Nancy's grave. He had come here this night to resolve an emptiness that had been growing in his soul for twenty years. He had come here, had devouged his innermost thoughts and feelings; and had accomplished nothing. He was no more closer to healing his heart now than what he had been twenty years ago.
With a defeated cry, he shouted, "Just tell what I should do, Nancy! Help me!"
He buried his head in his hands, finally, after all these years, losing his composure. All the thoughts, feelings and emotions he had kept buried for so long, suddenly erupted from deep within his body, releasing from every vein and sinew within his core.
A crackling noise, similar to that of lightning, caused him to look up in surprise. About a hundred yards away and directly in front of him, but slightly off to his right, he saw a huge display of sparks emanating from a transistor box. He recoiled as the sparks ignited into a full blown fire that threatened to engulf nearby treetops. The fire began to race along the electric wires, spreading in both directions.
"My God!" Believing that such a catastrophe could only be caused by a severe car accident, Neil picked himself up from the dewy ground, and ran as fast as he could towards the raging flames.
…
HOT DAMN that was a long chapter! Sorry guys for making you read all of that. I PROMISE, that no other chapters will get THAT long again.
I hope that it flowed better to you's as you's read it than it did to me as I wrote it, but like I said, I had a huge brain fart. Oh by the way, I'm copy writing the term "brain fart". I want a dollar from everyone who uses it. So you! I want a dollar right now! Come on, cough it up you! Allright, so you don't want to give it to me, I guess I'll just have to come find you. Keep looking over your shoulder because I'ma coming!
Oh! I promise to not make you wait another 3 or so weeks for the next update.
