Infestation: A Small Town Nightmare Read online

  INFESTATION

  A Small Town Nightmare

  (Part 1)

  Tanya R. Taylor

  Evil Lurks in the most unlikely places.

  Copyright© 2015

  All Rights Reserved.

  No portion of this work may be reproduced,

  copied or transmitted in any form without the

  expressed, written consent of the Author.

  I

  "Honey, wake up!" Dave shook her gently. The tossing and turning had jolted him from his sleep.

  Marie opened her eyes suddenly. She was in a state of shock.

  "You were having a bad dream," he told her.

  She wiped the pebbles of sweat that sheathed her forehead and sat up in bed. "What time is it?"

  Dave glanced at the clock. "It's half past three. Are you okay?"

  Marie scanned the dark room as if distracted by something. "They're here," she said. "We have to do something."

  "Whose here? What are you talking about, honey?"

  She turned to him. "This was no normal dream, Dave. The people of this town are in serious danger."

  Dave reached over and switched on the light. "Tell me about this dream."

  She tried to assume a more comfortable position as if it would somehow aid in telling the story. "I saw these black, hideous-looking creatures hovering in mid-air and the townspeople below were running in all directions in panic and in terror. Then I saw you, me and Amy driving in the pick-up and bolts of lightning were shooting everywhere. Lamp-poles were being set ablaze as we shot past them and people were scattering like crazy fleeing in nearby bushes and hiding just to dodge them. "

  "These black creatures… were there a few… many?" Dave asked.

  There were so many of them, Dave," she replied. "They were hovering over the town in one main area over-head, then they dispersed in various directions—east, west, north and south."

  "Is that it?"

  "No." Marie shook her head quickly. "People—young and old—were standing at the edge of the bridge overlooking the sea. They were just standing there as if in a daze or something, then I saw them walk off one by one."

  "What?" Dave's curiosity was piqued.

  "It's terrible!" Marie cried. Dave could see the terror in her eyes.

  "What do you think this all means?"

  "Evil has arrived—an evil that this town has never, ever seen before," she replied.

  "Are you sure about this one?" Dave stared intensely. "Maybe it means something other than what you think." He felt a measure of anxiety he didn't remember feeling before.

  "No." Marie shook her head again. "It's landed and I don't know what to do about it."

  After a seemingly long pause and considering everything that was just shared, Dave said: "Let's try to get some sleep. Your book signing is in a few, short hours. We'll talk about this later, okay?"

  "Okay," Marie answered.

  Dave switched off the light again. His only prayer right then was that the anxiety would wear off soon enough for both of them to get back to sleep. After eighteen years of marriage and witnessing each premonition and dream Marie ever spoke about materialize one after the other, he knew he had no choice but to take what she had seen seriously. This one tonight, however, seemed to be the worst.

  Later that morning…

  "How's the coffee?" Dave asked a minute after he had placed Marie's favorite brown mug on the table in front of her.

  "It's fine," she answered tiredly.

  "Were you able to get back to sleep?"

  "No."

  "Me neither."

  "Oh, sweetheart…" Marie looked at him pitifully, feeling terribly guilty for having laid such a burden on him in the middle of the night. "…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything last night."

  Dave sat across from her. "I wanted to know, remember?"

  "You know what they say about curiosity." She smiled weakly.

  "I can't recall. How does it go again?"

  "Good morning!" Seventeen-year-old Amy Adams sang as she sailed through the kitchen. She gave her parents each a peck on the cheek.

  "Where are you going already?" Marie asked.

  "School, Mom. Remember, I have a few more months left at Riverdale." She smirked.

  Marie glanced at her watch. "But it's only…"

  "A quarter of seven," Amy noted. "I wanna get there a little earlier to put in some practice time in the music room before school starts."

  "Your dedication to your guitar lessons is commendable," "Dave leapt in.

  "It is," Marie agreed, taking another sip of coffee.

  Suddenly, a horn honked outside.

  "Oh, that's Sam. Gotta go. Mucho, mucho love!" Amy grabbed a croissant from the pastry dish.

  "That's all you're having for breakfast?" Marie asked as Amy hurried off with her gray backpack against her back.

  "It's all I need, Mom. I'm fine…promise!"

  "I love you too, honey!" Marie said, seconds before she heard the front door close shut.

  Dave smiled as he took a bite of his croissant.

  Marie looked over at the ten-inch box television sitting quietly on the counter. "You wanna switch it on?"

  Dave got up and pressed the small, round button beneath the screen. The model was an antiquated version absent of a working remote.

  Instantly, the word Newsflash lit up the screen: "A forty-three-year-old mother of four was found floating in waters beneath the Trindset Bridge during the early morning hours. The woman has been identified as Tracey Winters of Claridgedale Heights. Events surrounding her death are currently unknown, but relatives we spoke with close to the woman claimed that she was deeply depressed. This is Aretha Jackson reporting for AKRH news."

  "It's already started," Marie said, staring at the television screen.

  Dave looked at her. "How do you know? That report didn't reveal anything significant based on what you dreamed."

  "You don’t understand." She leaned forward slightly, gazing into his sea-blue eyes. "This is the beginning of a series of events that would shake this town to its core. That woman was the first victim—many more will follow."

  II

  The long line of people at Aaron's Bookstore had curled outside of the door. Marie was primly seated behind a beautifully carved oak desk, scribbling her signature along with some pleasantries on each copy of Miles of the Stone handed to her.

  "It's really a pleasure meeting you today, Mrs. Adams," a middle-aged lady smiled as she handed Marie her book.

  "Thank you and your name is?" Marie asked, flipping the cover to the signature page.

  "It's Flora," The woman leaned in. "Put something real nice there; will you?"

  Marie smiled back. "Sure."

  "Did you write any more books or is this your first?"

  "It's my first," Marie confirmed, autographing the copy.

  "I really want to say thank you, Mrs. Adams, from the bottom of my heart."

  Marie glanced up.

  "After my son, Jeff, died, I didn't think I could go on any longer." The woman had now captured Maries' full attention. "Your book gave me the hope that one day, I will see him again."

  "I'm so sorry…" Marie started.

  "No… it's okay," Flora returned quickly. "The things you are able to see and talk about are more valuable than you'll ever know. I was on the verge of ending it all when I came across your book displayed in the window of a bookstore. I felt compelled to go in and have a look. Picking it up that day absolutely saved my life. So again, I say thank you for your great contribution to humanity."

  Marie was deeply moved. "I'm so happy to hear that, ma'am, and I appreciate your kind words." She handed her
the book.

  "I'll be praying for you."

  Marie smiled with gratitude, simultaneously observing how much longer the line had stretched since she had last checked. Dave was sitting proudly at the right corner of the room. He had winked at her just as the other customer approached.

  "Would you mind autographing my book for me?" A rather handsome man asked a couple of minutes later. He had stepped forward after the teenage girl with the purple hair walked off.

  "Steven…" Marie was shocked to see him.

  "How are you?" He slowly handed her the book.

  "I'm fine. How are you?" she replied.

  "Doing well."

  "Betty?"

  "She's good."

  "We haven't seen you for a while," he said. "I spoke with Amy a couple of days ago—was just checking on you guys. She said you were out running some errands. Did she tell you that I called?"

  "Yeah. She did." Marie had finished signing and was handing the book back to him.

  "We all heard about your success—your first book being published and all. I never knew some of these things about you. I wish you would've shared them with us." Steven said. Marie was becoming noticeably uptight, glancing back at the amazingly tolerant people behind him.

  Steven cleared his throat. "Mom asked for you lately."

  "Steven, I don’t think this is the place…"

  "I know. I know," he glanced back. "We'll talk soon?"

  "Yes," Marie answered softly.

  "Give Dave my regards."

  "I will." She watched as he exited the bookstore.

  "What a great turn-out it was!" Dave said as they buckled up to leave the parking lot of the store. "The people of this town absolutely love you."

  "I wouldn't call it love, Dave. They appreciate what I was crazy enough to share with them. That's all."

  "You know that's not true." Dave made a left-turn onto the freeway.

  "My publisher accepted my manuscript, did some really good marketing—that's pretty much it," Marie delineated. "Sometimes, I wonder what got into me to write a self-help book that's so unconventional in this Bible-belt town. To be honest with you… I didn't think anyone would buy it. Everyone's controlled by tradition around here and mere church attendance that they never get any deeper; you know? Anything that's outside the box scares them and they shun you."

  "From the massive crowd inside that bookshop today, I couldn't tell that that was the case," Dave said.

  "I feel that people who faced some really tough circumstances in life yearned for something more. That's probably what prompted many of them to take a chance on the book and to read it with an open mind. By doing so, they were able to see where it wasn't one to veer them away from any religious beliefs, but one that would deepen their spiritual experience based on my own experiences. Furthermore, I'm pretty sure that a lot of people who showed up today actually came in from nearby towns."

  "Maybe you're right." Dave glanced at her. "I saw Steven there. He didn't see me seated at the back."

  Marie was quiet.

  "What did he say?"

  "Nothing important."

  Dave glanced her way again. "You haven't as much as mentioned even one of their names in at least a year."

  "And that's just perfect," Marie answered.

  They pulled onto the drive-way in front of the single-storey white, trimmed yellow house. Marie stepped out first. Dave immediately noticed that the most recent topic had agitated her a bit. Inside, Marie tossed her coat onto the arm of the couch and proceeded into their bedroom to undress.

  "We need to talk." Dave followed her.

  "Why? What do we need to talk about?" She sat down after pulling off her stockings.

  "Your family."

  "My family is here, Dave," Marie gave him a look that spoke volumes.

  "You know what I mean." He sat next to her. "I know they caused you a lot of pain, honey and I realize that for the sake of sanity, you had to create a distance. I know that. You just haven't been the same since your dad died last year."

  "Do you expect me to be?" Marie's response was rigid.

  "What I'm trying to say is that you haven't really grieved since he passed away and I'm afraid your feelings concerning your family is what's preventing you from doing so," Dave cautiously explored.

  "That's where you're wrong." Marie's eyes welled with tears. "All I've done since Dad's death was grieve. You have no idea. Every day of my life, I think about him. I reflect on how he made me feel as his daughter—like there was nothing too good for me, nothing that I could not achieve. I think about how he was the only one who ever cared about me in my whole family and believed in me." She angrily wiped the tears that had streamed down her cheeks. "He was the only one that stood up to my mother when she treated me like I was trash, knowing that each time, he would pay a price with mercilessly cynicism or the silent treatment because she couldn't get him to feel and think the way she felt and thought about me." Dave looked on, sensing the pain in his wife's heart. "I don't know why she despised me so much—why I was the black sheep in her books when all I ever did was loved and helped her any way I could. Nothing I ever did was good enough for her. Without the love of my father, I don't know where I would be today."

  "I'm really sorry you had to go through that, honey." Dave put his arm around his wife's shoulder. "I don't understand how a mother could ever treat her child that way."

  Marie sighed as she weakly tossed the stocking aside. "That's why I always felt that just because a woman or a man has a baby doesn't mean that they instantly love the child or have motherly or fatherly instincts. Some parents have even admitted that they hated their own children and didn't know why."

  "Do you really think that your mother hated you?" Dave asked.

  "I don't know. All I know is that I never truly felt her love. Growing up, I saw how she interacted with my siblings and I could easily sense her love for them, but when it came to me, I felt quite the opposite—yet I loved her so much. I remember when I was a little girl, sometimes I used to ask God that whenever it was my parents' time to die, if I could die along with them so that we would never be separated. I couldn't imagine living without them," she said.

  "Even though your Mom treated you so coldly, you still felt that way?"

  "Yes," Marie nodded. "Nothing she ever did was enough for me to hate her, Dave. I remember how every opportunity she got, she would embarrass me in front of my brothers and sisters. One time, when I was fourteen years old, she and I, and my sister Jan were lying down together watching TV one night. A local pageant was airing live and as the thin, beautiful girls graced the stage, my mother looked at me and said, 'Marie, if you were in that pageant, they'd kick you right off the stage.'"

  "You're kidding," Dave was shocked.

  "I was a little heavier than most of the girls in the pageant, but maybe by only a few pounds. I wasn't fat at all, but after that remark, for years I literally thought that I was. I starved myself afterwards for ten straight days—surviving only on bubble gum and water, and the funny thing is: My mother never even noticed that I wasn't eating."

  "That's terrible, honey. I never knew that."

  "There's a lot you don't know."

  "What I don't understand is how your mom and dad survived all those years of marriage. They were like night and day: Your dad was a totally upfront sort of guy and she was well…different," Dave remarked.

  "Yes." Marie managed to crack a smile. "She could fool almost anyone into thinking that she was a saint. Everyone in town thought she was the sweetest lady. She went to church most Sundays, participated in the woman's club; was always kind and pleasant… but at home was where her real side always kicked in."

  "That's why when your father died, you separated yourself from them. You didn't feel like there was anyone there who truly cared about you."

  Marie sighed heavily. "Yes." She glanced out into the front room. "I'm glad we moved all the way out here. They don't come by and I don't miss them. I think the
y've got the message."

  "Well, you've got me and Amy," Dave said lovingly.

  "I know," Marie smiled again before burying her face in her husband's bosom.

  * * *

  Amy heard the doorbell ring. She sprung up out of bed and headed out front. After peering through the peep-hole, she opened the door.

  "Mrs. Winters… " She said pleasantly, then glanced at the teenager who was standing next to her. "Hi, Sandy."

  The girl smiled back.

  "Hello, Amy," Nastacia Winters replied. "Are your parents at home?"

  "Mom's here, but Dad went out. Please come in." She quickly stepped aside.

  Nastacia and Sandy headed over to the couch.

  "I'll get Mom." Amy darted down the hallway. Moments later, she returned with her mother.

  Marie was dressed in a red, silk robe and black bedroom slippers. "Hi there!" She said excitedly.

  Nastacia got up and they both embraced.

  "We came over to congratulate you on your book signing event. I'm glad we got ours autographed long before," Nastacia commented, glancing back at her daughter.

  "Congratulations, Mrs. Adams. I really enjoyed your book," Sandy said from the chair.

  "Thanks, Sandy! Be honest though… you didn't think your neighbor was kind of strange?" She grimaced.

  "Not at all," Sandy replied. "I always thought you were really gifted."

  "It's so obvious," Nastacia said. "Ever since you moved into the neighborhood approximately what… nine months ago? We could tell you were something special."

  "Stop it!" Marie slapped Nastacia's arm. "You had no idea how weird I was. Besides, we're all gifted in some way. Let's sit down."

  Amy and Sandy went outside and retreated to the porch.

  "Well, your so-called weirdness is doing a lot of good around here. God knows, we need all the good we can get. Don't you see how much this town has evolved in the past two years? Crime is up—rapes, robberies. Thankfully, the murder rate is still quite low and suicides are almost unheard of."