Chapter 5.3
February 13th 1999 (A.M)
As a new day quietly dawned over Lockport, the stillness of the morning created a vacuum of silence as the lone crow tore across the sky. The forest beneath rising and dipping rhythmically, the trees below beginning to blossom into life as the early signs of spring became evident. Rocky mountainsides and babbling, tranquil streams sat untouched, the darkness, by now, slowly beginning to break and giving way to a faint glimmer of sunlight across the horizon, the view simply exhilarating and wasted on the crow as it gave a shrill call that pierced the morning sky. Wings spread wide, beady eyes focusing upon the ground, the crow glided effortlessly, the car beneath cutting a familiar path through the forest and climbing the narrow dirt track, the aerodynamics creating a long, ever swelling trail of dust as the tyres of the car skidded and spun, the engine roaring like an untamed beast as the driver gave the throttle a nudge and sent loose stones and chippings hurtling into the air. Swooping overhead, the crow crossed paths with the car and scanned the dense forest for a sign. Any sign, as it foraged valiantly from height for food, the car below reaching a straight of track and suddenly skidding to a halt, the wheels locking as the heaving leviathan eventually came to a standstill, a cloud of dust and dirt now slowly beginning to engulf the car as the beam of the headlights slowly became obscured by the particles of dirt. Reaching for the ignition, Tiffany twisted the key and felt the engine violently stall, the roar now ceasing as she wound down a window and let the cool air infiltrate the interior of the Pontiac. Laying her head back against the headrest, she pulled the cigarette from her lips and exhaled deeply, the smoke twisting and dancing from the cockpit of the vehicle and into the freshness of the morning as she sat and closed her eyes, the events of the evening quite literally a blur as she smiled and took another drag from the cigarette. The fake blood from The Arcade had taken some washing out, drying into her clothes and staining her hair and skin as she ran a bubble bath as hot as she could take it and allowed the water to work into every pore on her body. Luckily she'd had the common sense to see the possibilities that may very well lay ahead that night, Damien's exuberance never in question. His competence however, always a doubt as Tiffany arranged the evenings events to take place early. Early enough so that should things go belly up, she still had the opportunity to get out there and do things on her own, the chase and the resulting altercation almost hindering her plans, yet luckily enough only delaying the inevitable. She needed the money, and as far as she was concerned there was only one way she was going to get it. Cleaning herself up as best she could and heading into the night, Tiffany had happened upon a wine bar, feeling a surge of excitement as she scouted for a potential victim through the huge glass fronted property and settled on one man in particular. It was like her mother used to say.
'If it isn't broke, don't fix it.'
Wasting no time, Tiffany had strode in and taken up a seat near her target, a little eye contact and a shy smile enough to entice him as she lay the foundations for the night ahead. A few more drinks and Tiffany found the conversation had turned to finer details such as 'where' and 'how', the usual hotel room not an option as the gentleman explained his predicament, the hotels of Lockport more than familiar with him. More importantly, familiar with his wife too. Suggesting a seedy little rendezvous in the back of her car, he had grinned from ear to ear as he agreed and arranged to meet Tiffany ten minutes and two blocks later, the promise of a little something extra to get the two of them relaxed startling Tiffany as he produced a joint and proceeded to light up, the fumes forcing Tiffany to wind the windows of the Pontiac all the way down as she sprung her trap on a now fully ensnared prey. The joint had come in handy after all. The deed over quickly as Tiffany lifted it to her lips and took a drag, the calming feeling washing over her body as the adrenaline subsided and she began to clean up. Suddenly, Tiffany found herself jolted from her thoughts, bolting forward in the driver's seat as the shrill, high pitched shriek sounded from the front of the car, the crow landing upon the hood with a thud and digging it's talons into the paintwork. Sitting there, in the midst of the now rapidly clearing dust, the crow seemed to stare into Tiffany's eyes completely unfazed, a shiver running the length of her spine as she stared back in fascination. Lifting the cigarette from her lips with one hand and gesturing towards the bird with the other she attempted to startle the bird into taking flight, her hand gesture doing nothing at all as she began to knock on the windshield. The knocking also having zero effect, Tiffany curled her hand into a fist and began to pound at the glass, the crow giving another shriek of frustration before spreading it's wings and taking off, Tiffany watching on in relief and sitting back in her seat, her blood running cold as another, much louder thud immediately reverberated around the car. Sitting perfectly still, her breath slowing, her ears pricked up and she listened intently, unsure if the long sleepless night or the half smoked joint had begun to play tricks on her, a fear spreading like a wildfire as once again a solitary, muffled 'thud' came from somewhere within the car. The cogs in her head turning slowly, she grabbed the handle of the driver's door and pushed it open, stepping one heel a time onto the dirt track and into the crisp new day, taking one step at a time and reaching the rear of the car in a panic. The forest around her silent and still, Tiffany approached the trunk and slowly started to lean forward. Head tilted, her ear almost upon the cold steel she immediately recoiled as yet another lone, laboured 'thud' caused her to jump. Grasping the handle of the trunk and composing herself, Tiffany took a long, deep breath before slowly exhaling and twisting the handle held firmly in her hand, losing her grip as she found the trunk wrenched from her hand and flying open, the force from within the trunk sudden and unstoppable. Before she could do anything, Tiffany fell to the ground, landing on her bum as a small cloud of dirt appeared around her. Watching on in shock, she sat open mouthed as the beaten, bloodied man now climbed from the trunk and fell face first upon the ground, naked but for the crisp white bed sheets surrounding his body, smeared in blood as he slowly climbed to his feet and began to stagger back down the dirt track, his bare feet taking small steps as he panted and gasped, picking up speed as his walk slowly turned into a frenzied jog.
"Fuck!" Tiffany spat as she grabbed the tail light of the Pontiac and pulled herself to her feet, her heels sinking into the dirt as she steadied herself and turned towards the escaping man, his desperate attempt only amplified by his sudden stumble, quickly returning to his feet before continuing on his way, bed sheet trailing behind him. Without taking her eyes from the escapee, Tiffany reached into the trunk and curled her fingers around the handle of the shovel resting inside, pulling it from within as she pulled the cigarette from her lips and allowed a lungful of acrid smoke to billow into the air. Taking a couple of steps and struggling to balance, she stopped, lifting one foot at a time as she struggled to remove her heels, the clasps around her ankles quickly manipulated as she removed her shoes and tried again. Walking quickly, the man, now recognisable as the gentleman from the night before, barely able to gather any kind of speed, she firmly gripped the shovel with both hands and threw it over her shoulder, now picking up a little speed as her feet hurried across the stones, now upon him as she felt the muscles in her arms tense.
"Why won't you stay dead?" She grunted, the shovel cutting through the air with a 'swish', the metal connecting with the back of the man's head and sending him plunging face first into the dirt. Taking a deep breath and lifting the shovel back over her shoulder, she took a second before taking aim and bringing it down again, the sickening crack not enough as she repeated the procedure again and again, only stopping as her arms began to tire. Allowing the shovel to drop, digging into the dirt as Tiffany leaned against it, she looked at the convulsing body and took another drag from the cigarette, lifting it from her lips and flicking the butt to the grass as she exhaled the last of the nicotine infused smoke to leave her system. One by one, she lifted her feet from the ground and examined the damage to an otherwise perfect pair of stockings, the stones of the dirt track cutting the soles to ribbons as she pursued her prey over the uneven and rough terrain, Tiffany now stifling a curse word or two as she returned her attention to the still twitching corpse before her. High above, the branches of the blossoming trees giving perfect opportunity, the crow circled the area before landing once more. Talons gripping the branch, it folded it's wings and with beady eyes watched on as the scene proceeded to unfold way below on the dirt track, Tiffany leaning forward and towards the dead man at her feet.
"Let's try that again shall we?" She said calmly, stooping and grabbing the corner of the blood-soaked bed sheets and beginning to pull with all her strength. Shovel in one hand, sheets gripped fiercely in the other, Tiffany struggled at first, eventually finding her momentum as she cast her eyes to the forest by the side of the road and slowly turned towards the trees. The last thing she needed was the unwanted attention that a freshly discovered body would bring. She needed to hide this guy and this seemed as good a place as any. Disappearing into the dense forest, shovel now placed over her shoulder, corpse parting the long grass as it trailed along behind. High above, the crow gave a long shriek, piercing the air as it once again spread its wings and took flight.
The digging of the grave, even though shallow, and the handling of the body had left Tiffany muddied and bloody as she returned to the Pontiac, the sun by now rising upon the horizon as the long shadows of the woodland around her streaked across the dirt track. Another thirty minute drive and she eventually found herself signaling from the twisting road and turning into the entrance of Spring Vale Trailer Park, her mailbox empty as she quickly stopped to check, carrying on and slowly crawling to a stop beside her trailer. The morning was warm, the sun beating down and covering every inch of land as far as the eye could see, not a cloud in the sky as the stream trickled on toward the rear of the trailer. Climbing from the car, sleep on her mind, she slammed the door closed and visibly jumped as the voice cut the air behind her.
"Hey Tiffany." Jesse lifted a hand as he appeared from behind his van, pausing as he looked at the state of his neighbour. Mud and dried blood marking her arms, legs and dress as Tiffany composed herself and fixed him a smile, lifting a finger and pushing her shades back up towards the bridge of her nose, hair a mess as she began to adjust it. "What the hell happened to you?" He asked, his face dropping in shock.
"Oh this?" Tiffany lifted her arms and studied the blood and dirt. "It's not mine." She replied laughing.
"No shit." Jesse gasped.
"It was a deer." She lied, impressed with how quickly the explanation formed in her mind. "Yoou know what those roads are like."
"I don't understand." Jesse's eyes flitted to the Pontiac, the immaculate bodywork glistening in the sun. "Your car looks great."
"Oh, I didn't hit it." Tiffany laughed nervously. ""Little fucker was just laying there by the road."
"Wow." Jesse looked shocked. "So I guess you-"
"Well it's not in me to watch anything living suffer." Tiffany interrupted, the irony of her statement almost bringing a huge fit of laughter as she fished a cigarette from her purse and lifted it to her lips, now beginning to relax. "So I finished the poor thing off with a tyre iron."
"Holy shit."
"Yeah," Tiffany bellowed the smoke from her lungs and approached Jesse across the gravel path. "Little fucker was lucky I was passing by I guess. It could have been worse. It could have been my car it hit."
Approaching the car, washcloth working it's way from one hand to the other, Jesse dropped to his knee and admired the mixture of chrome and candy red bodywork. "You can say that again." He ran a hand along the contours of the front wing, the shimmering bodywork in pristine condition. "I used to love these things when I was a kid."
"It's like my mother used to say." Tiffany beamed, sensing a change in conversation and going with it. "A true classic never goes out of style."
"Yeah," Jesse agreed with a nod of the head, the sun catching the curves and contours of his own body, shirtless as he stood up straight, Tiffany admiring the view herself as he turned to her bewildered. "Must have been terrible having to kill that deer though." A nod of the head from Tiffany as she remained silent, Jesse turning back to the Pontiac and shaking his head in astonishment. "More than I could have done."
Taking a few steps towards the steps of her trailer, Tiffany lifted an arm and extended a thumb over her shoulder, trying her best to get away before any more questions were cast her way.
"Well listen," She began, Jesse still admiring the vehicle parked before him. "I have to go…" Standing to his feet, Jesse held up a hand and turned in Tiffany's direction. "I got a thing."
"Yeah, I better get moving too." He said with a firm nod of the head. "Nice to see you're okay anyway."
"Why wouldn't I be?" Tiffany asked with confusion.
"Those deer's are strong bastards." Jesse laughed. "It's a wonder it let you get anywhere near it."
"Oh right." Tiffany laughed. "It wasn't in any condition to fight me off. Anyway, I really have to-" She pointed over her shoulder, towards the trailer, stepping away as she spoke.
"Yeah, sure thing. I'll let you get back to it." Jesse smiled as he turned back to his van, the wax drying as the sun shone down across the valley and swamped the area. Without saying another word Tiffany turned and fumbled through her bag, rummaging around inside and finding the keys to the trailer, about to plunge the key into the lock as she approached the door and noticed the note taped by the door handle. Ripping the paper from the steel exterior of the trailer, Tiffany read the brief note and felt a ripple of excitement spread from her stomach, the butterflies within fluttering freely as she read the note again.
'Hammond Motel
Room 17
6pm'
This was it. Although there was no name Tiffany could only assume the note had been left by Bailey, the time upon them to swap goods, although how he happened to know Tiffany's address was a mystery, she had gone to great lengths to remain as secretive as possible, but 'what the hell' she thought as she fished around in her bag once more, finally pulling her cell phone from within. Bringing up the recently dialled numbers, Tiffany soon happened upon Bailey's name, pressing the call button and placing the phone to her ear. Where had these things been over the last ten years? Things would have been a lot easier had she not been relying on payphones every time she had to make a call, that was for sure, the birth of the cell phone bringing infinite possibilities as a whole new world of opportunity opened up to Tiffany as the line began to ring, the call almost immediately diverted to the voicemail of Officer Bob Bailey as Tiffany hung up the call and unlocked the door to the trailer, stepping inside and allowing the door to swing shut behind her. She was tired and needed a rest. By the looks of the note held firmly in her hand, she was in for an exciting evening.
"Anybody I know?" The voice wheezed across the diner table, Bailey examining his phone and rejecting the call, the cell phone returned immediately to his jacket pocket as he lay his hands on the table and took a quick glance around the almost empty diner, quickly returning his gaze to the figure sat opposite. Hunched in such a way as to allow a shadow to fall across his face, and breathless, the state of the guy was incredible. His face, or what was visible, seemed heavily scarred. His limp so exaggerated as he slowly approached the diner table just fifteen minutes ago that Bailey expected it to be an act, the walking stick placed delicately by the table as the unidentified male sat opposite Bailey and simply introduced himself as 'a friend', the voice on the other end of the mysterious phone call Bailey had received late the night before. Right now, as he asked Bailey the simple question regarding the identity of his caller, Bailey couldn't help but pick up on a smugness exuded within his tone, the identity of Bailey's caller all too clear as the disfigured face opposite curled into one of glee. The smile, although obviously painful, spreading helplessly as Bailey's mystery guest allowed a low wheeze of laughter to escape his chest. His voice was deep, his chest sounded shot to pieces and the way he spoke indicated some kind of obvious breathing difficulty as he occasionally lifted the inhaler to what remained of his mouth and sucked, all the while his heavily burned face remaining fixed on Bailey's every move.
"Just a friend." Bailey answered, lifting his coffee from the table and taking a mouthful, his guest nodding as he smirked.
"Would it be our mutual friend?" The man asked as Bailey placed his coffee back on the table.
"Maybe it's none of your fucking business who's calling me, huh?" Bailey snapped, immediately regretting it as a couple of black and white photos suddenly made their way across the table and beneath his nose, the image of Tiffany Valentine in one, the other of Bailey himself as he entered his patrol car just two nights ago in the old parking lot of Franklin Transport. "You care to tell me what this is about old man?" Bailey asked, furious as he leaned across the table, taking another quick look around as he kept his voice down.
"I would have thought that was obvious."
"The only thing obvious here is that you find it entertaining to sneak around in the shadows taking pictures of me."
"I'm sure Chief Kincaid would find it entertaining too." The man's disfigured face suddenly warped into a solemn look, his melted skin hidden beneath the Fedora hat perched atop his head.
"Go on." Bailey sat back in his chair, an invitation to continue as he prepared to hear the man out.
"Aiding and abetting a known fugitive?" He asked with a chuckle. "A killer. A cop killer no less!"
"I don't know what you're talking about." Bailey shook his head and smirked nervously, this guy knew a lot more than he anticipated.
"Oh I think you do." He nodded in return. "You've been tasked with retrieving a certain item of evidence, am I right?"
Silence from Bailey's corner as the man paused briefly.
"Oh I can't understand you Officer Bailey. Willing to throw away a perfectly good career, and for what? The promise of a quick buck?"
"And the rest." Bailey retorted, regretting it immediately.
"Do you even know who she is?" The man asked. "Do you even know what's in that evidence bag she seems so desperate to acquire?' A shake of the head and a small ripple of laughter. "Believe me when I say I'm so disappointed in you Bailey."
Silence as Bailey felt his heart thudding in his chest, the beat increasing as he seemed sure it to be almost visible beneath his jacket.
"But there is a way out."
"I'm listening." Bailey sighed, the amount this guy knew about him and Tiffany becoming rather unsettling as the conversation evolved.
"Leave it." The man simply said, his tone now stern as the humour suddenly disappeared, lifting his inhaler and taking a draw. "Let it go."
Bailey shook his head and leaned across the table. "It's not that simple." He whispered. "I've got bills. Debts! I owe money to people you don't want to owe money to!"
"You'll still get your money." His guest answered rapidly. "And I'd be willing to let this slide. Nothing mentioned to Chief Kincaid, you just go back to being a simple, honest police officer. Do you understand?"
"And the girl?" Bob leaned back again, his head beginning to hurt. "She's expecting her… Thing, whatever it is."
"You leave the girl to me." The man slowly lifted a trembling finger as he spoke, Bailey absorbing every word. "She'll be dealt with tonight. Thanks to you."
"Wait, what you mean thanks to me?" Bailey asked confused.
"I went to the trouble of leaving a note on the door of her trailer requesting a meeting tonight. Naturally she'll assume it's from you." He replied and gave a small chuckle upon witnessing the confusion appear on Bailey's face. "Congratulations Robert. Your situation has given me the perfect opportunity to lure an otherwise suspecting Miss Valentine into my very hands. So you see, this whole evidence errand she's got you running, let it go. Because I can guarantee she'll not be seeing tomorrow."
"So wait, she thinks that a note 'you' left, on 'her' trailer, is from 'me'?" Bailey asked astounded. "And what happens when she finds out she's been set up? You said it yourself, this bitch is dangerous. I've got a family to look after!"
"By then it will be too late." The man answered with a smirk, standing as his chair scraped along the floor behind him with an ear shattering screech. "But don't worry, I'll keep your involvement between you and me."
"Listen," Bailey leapt to his feet, palms slamming against the surface of the table as he leaned across and sneered. "You keep my name out of it. You think you can take care of her, and you can get me my money, then fine. I'll play along. But I need that money."
"Do you have any idea how pathetic you sound?" The man asked angrily as he turned and proceeded to walk away. "I already said, this meeting never happened. Your name will remain confidential and you'll get your money. If Valentine tries to contact you, all you have to do is ignore her. Leave this to me."
"Sounds like you have your own issues to settle with her." Bailey reasoned, retreating slightly.
"Let's just say I owe her one." The man spat as he turned to leave, Bailey's final question making him stop mid-stride.
"What the hell is this evidence she needs so badly anyway?" He asked, curiosity always did get the better of him.
A low grunt as once again the stranger began to limp towards the diner door, Bailey sinking to his seat as the man answered. "It's a long story." And like that he was gone. Reaching the door and disappearing as Bailey sat and digested the previous ten minutes. Call him paranoid, but there was something about this whole situation that left Bailey feeling anxious. That guy, whoever he was, surely knew more about Tiffany than he did. But something told him that tonight wouldn't be as easy as the old man thought. And a cop killer? Sure Bailey had had his suspicions for a while, but from what he'd just heard, this girl sounded dangerous. Taking another sip from his coffee, the stale, luke-warm liquid tasting bitter on his tongue, Bailey tried to assess the overall situation as best he could and formulate his own plan from there. A way forward that would benefit Bailey and Bailey only. For instance, what if he were to take the old man's advice, leave the evidence to rot, and then find out he's failed. Did he really want to rub Valentine up the wrong way? Hell no. She wouldn't think twice about leaving him for dead, using him as an example and recruiting yet another of Lockport's trustworthy officers. No, the best thing to do in this case was to carry on as originally planned. For a start, he knew that both Valentine and the old man would be incapacitated for a large period of the evening. On reflection, that would be perhaps the best time to sneak into the archives and do some digging. Discover a little more about this 'evidence' he had been charged with locating and grab it just in case. After all, the old man seemed sure he wouldn't need to. Worst case scenario he'd just sneak back in and put it back in the locker where nobody would be any wiser. Sitting back he lifted a finger to alert the waitress, ordering another coffee as he let the plan settle in his head. 'Yes.' He thought to himself with a smile. So long as the old man kept his mouth shut, he should come out of this pretty well.
Whatever went down tonight.
No sooner had Tiffany taken a bath and thrown on her robe, she had dropped to the bed and buried her head in the pillow. The soft, cool embrace welcoming and refreshing as she closed her eyes and quickly found herself falling asleep. The serene morning doing little to intervene she quickly settled. She had only seemed to be asleep two minutes, the bed sheets still cold around her body as she twisted and stretched, raising a weary arm, the alarm clock feeling her wrath as a curled fist came crashing down in a panicking attempt to quell the noise. The sunlight beaming through the venetian blinds of the trailer burned across the floor as, drowsily, Tiffany slowly sat up and gave a long, drawn out yawn, her legs drooping over the edge of the metal bed frame, feeling the unusually warm linoleum tiles against her feet as she pushed herself upright and staggered towards the kitchen. Something seemed strange as she flicked the switch for the kettle and pulled the pack of cigarettes from the table by the door, grabbing the door handle and almost yanking the door from its hinges as Tiffany stopped dead in her tracks. Outside the darkness reigned supreme. The moon hanging high in the sky and casting an eternal glow across the now empty trailer park. The grass, once immaculately maintained and trimmed, now stood at roughly three feet high, the breeze constant and fresh as the grass waved like an ocean, as far as the eye could see. Neighbouring trailers had disappeared completely, the stream and woodland to the rear of Tiffany's trailer too as she leaned through the threshold of the trailer and looked out into the night. Confusion reigning, she stepped back and examined the interior of her trailer, the inside basking in light as the sun indeed seemed to shine through the windows, the blinds casting the sharpest of shadows across the floors and walls of Tiffany's home. What the hell was going on? Turning back to the door, the bleak night beckoning her outside, she threw the packet of cigarettes back onto the table and stepped outside, the night air sending a shiver down her spine as she reached the bottom of the steps and felt the cold gravel beneath her feet, astonished as the long grass before her slowly stopped waving and parted in a perfect line. The grass stood perfectly still, the partition sitting dark and empty as she took a step forward to investigate, the gravel beneath her now spreading onwards and cutting a path through the grass. Step by step the gravel appeared, another section with every step she made the grass now standing either side of Tiffany slowly moving, responding to the touch of her hands as she steadily made her way up the expanding path before her. Turning back, she was surprised to see her trailer had now disappeared, concerned as the land now seemed to contain nothing other than a nameless grave stone, Tiffany turning and continuing onward up the path. The horizon, which previously seemed to offer very little other than the repetitive view of grass and darkness, suddenly seemed to change as a row of trees rose from the floor. The branches and trunks, twisting and stretching, appeared with an almighty groan as Tiffany stopped dead in her tracks, the bizarre happenings leaving her speechless as the haunting apparitions appeared on the horizon. Crooked and rotten the trees quickly bloomed the greenest of leaves, no sooner appearing before turning brown and withering. Quickly shedding any leaves they had, the branches soon drying out and turning black as Tiffany approached with apprehension and felt her ears prick up, the incredibly faint sound of an organ coming from somewhere over the other side, accompanied by the roars of laughter and screams of enjoyment. The noise, at first, seemed strange. Almost alien in fact, that was until Tiffany managed to place it. She'd heard this same noise once before. Years before, a rare childhood memory bubbling to the surface. A normal life that had once promised so much, yet had offered so little. Stepping forward and grabbing the dry, brittle branches of the trees, Tiffany began to tug and pull, the wood snapping almost instantly as she clawed away, her instinct proving correct as the noise grew in volume and a myriad of different coloured lights appeared. Pulling the last of the branches free and managing to climb between the gap she had created, she blinked in awe, the fairground heaving with activity. Bustling with life and happiness as she stood and surveyed the scene. The lights of the big wheel spread hypnotically from the centre, blues, greens and reds as the huge metal structure slowly rotated. The popcorn stand had enraptured more people than it could possibly feed as a crowd of bodies swarmed the stand, dollars exchanged for bags of sweet and salted corn as kids ripped the bags from their parents hands and began to feast upon the contents. Over to the left there stood a carousel, the music blaring from the speakers positioned strategically around the entrance as the horses, skewered vertically, bobbed up and down in some offset rhythm that had always made Tiffany nauseous upon closer inspection. This was the noise she had been able to place. The noise that originally sounded strange, although familiar. Her one happy memory dragged to the surface just a moment ago being that of a fairground. Looking over to the right of the fairground she could feel something strange. Not so much a physical thing, but more of an interest, something pulling at her curiosity and enticing her as she began to walk toward the ghost train, the tension building with every step as she strolled past the hordes of people jostling for popcorn. So far, not one person had acknowledged her as she strolled barefoot across the grass and sawdust, dressed in nothing but a bathrobe as she reached a security tent, her eyes suddenly pulled from the hypnotic appearance of the ghost train and towards the blur on the canvas of the tent. Although nothing there, Tiffany could have sworn she'd seen the silhouette of a child appear and disappear rapidly, an eruption of malevolent laughter instantly drawing her attention back towards the ghost train as a feeling of anxiety slowly closed over her. She had recognised the laughter in a heartbeat, only one person capable of exciting yet also terrifying in the same instant.
Chucky.
She had a feeling now, and although aware that she was dreaming she had not managed to obtain a feeling of lucidity she felt immediately comfortable with, her actions still not completely under her control as she found her feet pulling her toward the ghost train entrance. This was the point of no return. A metaphor, she was sure, for what she had planned back in the real world. A touch of 'now or never' as she climbed the steps of the ghost train and found herself confronted with a situation, her subconscious intruding and asking an important question. Turn around now, and leave things be? Or carry on, fully aware of the dangers that await? Hesitating, a quick look back, she found herself dumbstruck. The carnival had gone. Everything had gone. The expanse of black surrounding the ghost train and leaving her with one way to go. Hand shaking, she suddenly found herself grabbing the door of the ghost train and stepping inside, the door slamming closed behind her as the noise echoed out. It was pitch black, and the silence seemed deafening, a cool breeze on her neck as she stood and waited. But waited for what? She wasn't sure, reaching out and grasping at thin air, the void surrounding her beginning to swell as the darkness suddenly ruptured and a light appeared from nowhere. The light tore past, a staccato of black and white as Tiffany closed her eyes and took a step back, the screeching of metal on rails as the carriage rattled by. Brakes gripping the worn, metal tracks, the sparks flew into the air as Tiffany lifted a hand and shielded her face, the carriage now reaching a corner and disappearing beyond a cloud of freshly dispersed smoke, into the darkness with an automated giggle. Lowering her hand and taking a look around, the light grew kinder as Tiffany took in her surroundings. Bloodcurdling screams splitting the silence, piles of skulls stretching into the heavens and all manner of animatronics fiendishly working their way backwards and forwards as they patrolled the track sweeping around the ghost train. Taking a step and tearing the cobwebs hanging in front of her face, Tiffany moved on, a corner approaching and the tension building as she looked to the ground. Her bare feet invisible, consumed by the smoky haze swimming around her ankles, she trod on and picked up the pace, rounding the corner, the tower of bones sweeping left as she stopped dead in her tracks, the sight that greeted her turning the blood in her veins to ice. Right there, dead centre of the ghost train, sat a couch, the woman sitting upon the cushions needing no introduction as Tiffany stepped carefully forward and watched the scene unfold, her mother standing as a much younger Tiffany entered the scene. The sound was nonexistent as the two talked, mother and daughter going about their business, Tiffany not needing to hear the conversation, each word already engraved in her memory. Standing at about 5' 5", Tiffany's mother had always cut an imposing figure when needed, her traditional, prim and proper ways stifling the life from Tiffany's childhood as she felt forced to fall in line, striving to achieve the blessings she so desired, until one day it simply proved too much. Her mother's advice, if it could be called that, regarding her older man, the viciousness of her tongue as she berated Tiffany for bringing shame on the family name had so incensed Tiffany she had lashed out without thinking. Before she knew it, her mother had retaliated, pinning her young daughter to the wall and with blood pouring from her lip lifting the knife from the table. Tiffany remembered now as she watched the events play out, the way her mother's face had twisted in anger, the way her eyes had pierced Tiffany's soul as she spat in her face and threatened retribution, exile unless her daughter followed her instructions and ceased her naïve romance. It was at this time, Tiffany now watching on through tearful eyes and from a fresh angle, that Chucky had entered the fray, his demeanour instantly changing as he witnessed first hand the ordeal Tiffany now found herself encountering, approaching from behind and pulling the wire from his pocket. Before Tiffany could say anything he had her mother by the throat, pulling her free as the shock forced her to drop the knife. As she stood in the ghost train now, tears rolling over her cheeks, she screamed at the three of them to stop, Chucky's eyes glassing over as he pulled tighter and tighter and allowed his familiar, sickening cackle to fill the air, the only sound as she watched on. Dropping to a squatting position, the shock as fresh now as the day it had happened, she wept as her mother had the life choked out of her just yards away, the three of them carrying on oblivious, the screams from the present day Tiffany going unnoticed as, after the briefest of struggles, Tiffany's mother finally stopped moving and her body fell still. The nausea racing through her stomach, she stood and let fly with one final, sickening scream closing her eyes as she willed the image away, a feeling of weightlessness suddenly taking over as Tiffany felt her body begin to jolt randomly from side to side. Opening her eyes, the sickly feeling remained as she found herself now sat in a carriage of the ghost train, the dream world attempting to swallow her whole as she dared to look over the edge. Below her, a sea of bodies, the blood beneath them rippling with each wave, the tracks supporting the runaway carriage held aloft by intricately positioned struts and beams fashioned from human bones and various internal organs, the carriage squealing with delight as it tore along at breakneck speed. Gripping the safety bar, the wind whipping through her hair, Tiffany felt the nauseating feeling increase as the carriage bolted around various corner's. First a hard left, then a right, the blood rushing to her head as the track performed a barrel roll, the darkness before her stretching on infinitely as she could fight it no longer, waiting for the track to level out before leaning over the side of the giggling carriage and vomiting across the thousands of bodies below, the half dead groans startling Tiffany as the army of souls began suddenly look up. One by one the bloodied figures, floating upon the sea of blood began to lift their heads, Tiffany now returning to her seat and closing her eyes, the distant sound of motors clicking into life causing more than a little distress as she allowed herself to take a peak. Without warning, accompanied by the increasing sound of a hundred miniature engines, a mass of circular blades appeared on either side of the hell bound carriage, whirring and randomly snapping in every direction as Tiffany instinctively ducked for cover. Sparks flew as the blades cut through the carriage, the laughter from the runaway vehicle intensifying as each blade tore through metal, blood beginning to bubble from the cuts, deep and fresh in the chassis of the carriage, Tiffany thrown from side to side as she looked now to the heavens and witnessed a fork of lightning igniting the roof of the ghost train. Bats, moths, and what seemed like a million other nightmarish creatures cut across the darkness, swooping past the carriage and snapping their talons, desperately trying to grasp at anything and everything as they bared their filthy yellow fangs and shrieked through the air. Daring to lift her head, fingers slowly curling around the safety bar of the carriage, Tiffany felt the sickness beginning to rise from her stomach once more, the repetitive ninety degree lefts and rights of the hurtling carriage leaving her dazed and confused as, from somewhere, she suddenly summoned the courage to scream out in anger, the buzzing blades halting just inches from her face, the winged demons amazingly giving up the ghost and dropping one by one from the sky. All at once the carriage came to an abrupt halt and Tiffany opened her eyes. The sky around her spread in every direction as she examined the multitudes of reds. The clouds parting and another eruption of lightning, Tiffany's eyes following the fork of light and seeing the sparks fly from the tower of skulls in the distance, the small figure standing atop the bones unflinching as its ginger hair and blue dungarees stood stained in blood. Half it's face missing and every nerve, muscle and tendon exposed, the small figure spoke quietly in the distance.
'Where were you Tiff?' It asked innocently, the fear rising as Tiffany screamed and felt the carriage immediately start moving again, accelerating at speed as she found the force causing her head to snap back. Her knuckles turning white, she felt the silence once again around her and opened her eyes in apprehension, the carriage hurtling along and picking up speed now, the tracks below cracking and warping as the carriage tore along, momentum increasing as a brick wall appeared in the distance, growing rapidly as the carriage began to break up. Disintegrating, Tiffany ducked and dodged the pieces of metal and plastic, peeling from the frame of the speeding vessel as the wall grew and grew. Buried within the red brick structure fast approaching sat the blank headstone from earlier, only now it seemed to be weeping blood and bared a name. A name Tiffany knew only too well.
Hers.
Taking a deep breath, the bloodstained wall now upon her Tiffany braced for impact, closing her eyes and gritting her teeth, the darkness comforting as she readied herself. But nothing came. Before she knew it, the force of the accelerating carriage had disappeared entirely, opening her eyes to query her current situation and finding nothing at all, the pitch black void surrounding her as she felt a cool breeze upon the back of her neck and turned, the sickly voice calling out in a whisper, floating on the air as she turned and stared straight into the bloodied, deformed face of the demonic looking doll. "Tiffany…" It called, the blue eyes sat beneath a mop of unruly red hair, the freckles on what remained of it's face warping as the malevolent smile evolved rapidly into a sneer and it threw back it's head, a roar of fury erupting from somewhere deep within as a knife suddenly cut through the air.
The scream filled the trailer, Tiffany sitting bolt upright in bed and quickly reaching for her throat. Chest pounding, heart beating, she panted in terror, swallowing the air as her lungs worked overtime, almost bursting as her trembling hand felt beneath her chin. Exhaling deeply, a sigh of relief among the shallow rapid breaths, she closed her eyes and lowered her arm, the warm bed sheets wrinkled as she lay back and began to giggle. Sunlight flooding through the blinds, the incessant tweeting of birds in the trees surrounding the trailer park, Tiffany felt her heart begin to calm as she gave a long overdue stretch, the tension ironed from her limbs as she felt her muscles tighten and a yawn escaped her lips. The floor felt cold as she rolled over and placed the soles of her feet upon the linoleum, the eerily familiar feeling she had experienced in her dream not going unnoticed as she made her way through the fabric separating her bedroom from the kitchen and reached the trailer door. Outside the sun shone high in the sky, the brightness causing Tiffany to lift an arm and shield her face from the rays as she breathed a sigh of relief and slammed the door closed. Turning and firing the kettle into life, she lifted a cigarette from the kitchen counter and placed it casually between her lips, her lighter evading her as, finally giving up, she fired up the stove and carefully lit the cigarette from the flames of the gas hob. A cloud of smoke filling the trailer, she folded her arms across her chest and glanced at the clock, another two hours until her meeting with Bailey, excitement beginning to sink in as the kettle steamed and bubbled behind her, the water within reaching boiling point as the kettle flicked itself off and Tiffany grabbed a cup. A quick drink and she better start getting ready. Tonight was going to be fun.
The rain battered the windshield of the Pontiac, coming on suddenly and without warning. The wipers working frantically as the mechanical whirring of the motors, backwards and forwards, filled the bleak interior of the car. One hand on the wheel, Tiffany leaned forward and pulled the sleeve of her leather jacket over her free hand and frantically rubbed the increasingly thick fog from the windshield, narrowing her eyes and squinting as she attempted to see into the oncoming storm, the barrage of rain getting heavier as the Pontiac charged on. It seemed to be nothing but storms recently, the clouds gathering in numbers overhead and illuminating with a flash of light, the distant rumble of thunder following within a matter of seconds. The highway that seemed to stretch on infinitely before her had, so far at least, been practically deserted. The flash of oncoming headlights a rarity as the downpour fell from the skies above and Tiffany carried on regardless, the white walls of the Pontiac cutting a path through the standing water as she approached the familiar, dilpidated structure of the Hammond Motel, the weathered sign offering air conditioning, TVs in all rooms and Continental breakfasts standing twenty feet tall and leaning heavily to one side as she pulled on the steering wheel, the headlights of the Pontiac sweeping across the entrance to the parking lot and growing rapidly on the wall ahead. Applying the handbrake and killing the engine, Tiffany looked from the car interior and across the parking lot. The motel seemed to be a generic single storey structure, the usual wooden fronted motel design, the abandoned and graffiti laden office over to the left flanked by a row of rooms leading from one side of the parking lot to the other, the walkway stretching the width of the building and past each and every door, individually numbered as an overhead canopy did its best to protect guests from the elements, the wooden design given some structural support by a series of wooden pillars. Taking one last drag of her cigarette, Tiffany stubbed the butt in the ashtray of the car and grabbed her bag, the rain hammering upon the roof as she pushed open the car door and stepped into the rain. Before she had even managed to close the car door, Tiffany allowed a series of inaudible curses to slip from her tongue and looked to the floor, the puddle of rainwater completely covering her feet as the heels of her stilettos began to slowly sink into the saturated dirt bearing her weight, the wind and rain whipping at her bare legs as she threw the door shut and stepped backwards with a long sigh. Quickly pulling her leather jacket up over her head, the rain pelting it continuously, she ran as fast as she could. Her feet soaking as her heels splashed through the puddles, now covering the majority of the uneven car park, reaching the walkway and more importantly the sanctuary of the overhead canopy as she lowered her jacket and ran her hands through her now damp and sodden hair. The wind, ripping into the face of the motel and spreading, almost took her breath as another flash of lightning spread dramatically across the sky. Straightening out her dress, ironing the wrinkles from the damp fabric and brushing the rainwater from her thighs, she swore to wear something more practical next time as she looked at the numbers adorning the doors and began to make her way along the front of the motel, the wooden walkway beneath her giving off a hollow thud with each step as the points of her heels struck the timbers. In no time at all, she had reached room seventeen, lifting her hand and curling her fingers into a fist as she knocked upon the door and watched as the number seven comically dropped to the floor, the run down building in need of more than a light refurbishment. No answer came, Tiffany lifting her hand and knocking once again, silence still the only thing to greet her as she stepped to the window of the room and tried to peer through the net curtains, lifting a hand over her eyes as she tried to see any signs of life within. Trying one more time, Tiffany gave another knock. Longer this time, harder, as surprisingly she found the door swinging slowly open, the hinges creaking as the darkness within appeared beyond the threshold. Not knowing what to think, she hesitated slightly, her gut feeling being that something wasn't quite right. Where was Bailey? Had he been and gone? Had he not arrived at all? Slowly stepping forward, into the dirty, decaying room, the damp rising up the walls and working it's way through the wallpaper, Tiffany looked around. The well trodden and badly stained carpet seemed to have a slight stickiness to it, the years of mistreatment no longer a concern for the proprietor of the motel as Tiffany looked to the equally worn couch and coin operated TV set. Spying a doorway across the room she stepped closer and craned her neck to investigate as best she could. There did appear to be a light, although dim, shining from the room out back, Tiffany correctly assuming it to be the bedroom as she continued on and reached the partially open door. Pushing ever so lightly, she watched as the door slowly opened and the light grew brighter, the stale yellow bulb flickering as Tiffany stepped into the bedroom. The bed that sat before her was in a horrendous state of repair. The duvet pulled back, the sheets were stained all yellows and browns, the on site laundrette apparently one of the mod-cons to go without power these days. The frame of the bed itself had seen better days too. Wooden, heavily battered and marked and also stained in what Tiffany could only guess to be either excrement or blood. Clearing her throat, about to call out once again, she lifted her eyes from the bed and began to examine the room, her eyes immediately drawn to the wall by the bed, the desk beneath housing very little except a half empty bottle of cheap bourbon and a yellow book. A terrifying feeling swept across her entire body as her eyes fell upon the pictures pinned to the wall above the desk, some colour, some black and white, the majority of Tiffany. All from various parts of the last decade. There was the mugshot from her arrest in 1990, her sodden hair and messy make up bringing memories bubbling to the surface, an extraordinary feeling that made it genuinely fell like yesterday. The CCTV footage of her exploits in Chicago a couple of years ago, the lobby of the Regency Hotel unmistakable, despite the pixelation that had occurred as the image seemed to have been blown up in size. Pictures of everybody Tiffany had been involved with hung freely on the wall, yards of red string darting from image to image and held in place by pins as some form of dialogue-free story played out on the wall. Evan Carter's knife wound. Rita Hernandez's dead body from 1993. Mug shots of Gabriella Cortez and Johnny Duncan. What could only be guessed as the charred corpse of the late Mrs Appleby too. Along with crime scene photographs of each and every Sarah Pierce from two years previous. There were even pictures as recent as this last week, Franklin Transport and her meeting with Bailey, Tiffany exiting the rear of the building, Bailey climbing into his patrol car out front. The zoom on the camera catching every, grainy little detail. The thing that had Tiffany most terrified though, were the words scrawled childishly across the wall in the middle of all these pictures, her blood running cold as she let them sink in. 'TIFFANY VALENTINE' and 'REVENGE' standing out as she suddenly saw movement on the wall, a shadow flitting from left to right, Tiffany unable to react as she felt the blow to the back of her head.
Before she could do anything, a haze gathered and her vision clouded over, and the next thing she knew she was out.
What the hell was going on?