Virtual Terror Page 9

  A bear of a man in a police uniform approached them.

  "I'm sorry about your friend," he told them. "What was her name?"

  Carrie tried to answer but was completely overcome.

  "Take your time, miss," he told her sympathetically.

  Then the police officer, whose badge read FARTHING, turned to Keith. Keith took a few deep breaths and told the officer Sandra's name.

  "Are you sure?" Officer Farthing asked.

  "Yeah, definitely," Keith told him dully. It was a continuous effort to fight the gray fog that threatened to smother his mind.

  "Miss, you may want to look away. We have to be absolutely certain." He put both hands on Sandra's body, preparing to turn her over. Carrie regarded him like a frightened animal, but would not look away.

  "Okay. Is this your friend Sandra?" And he flipped the body face-up.

  After a moment of pure shock, Carrie started screaming. The front of Sandra's clothes were scorched, burned through in some places. Bloodstains splotched her jeans and shirt. The cord had cut into her neck, and blood had spilled from the wound. Much of her hair had burned away from her face. But the face was the worst. It was shriveled and dry, cracked and peeling. Sandra had the face of the old woman Keith had seen «sleeping» in "Mysteria."

  "It's her," Keith choked out. Officer Farthing covered her corpse. He motioned for the paramedics to take it away.

  "What happened to her?" Carrie said, her voice shaking, her face streaked with tears.

  "I'd say she was severely beaten, then hung out to dry. Literally. "She's been up there all night, and those lights are hot. Leave something in the oven long enough, and it'll shrivel up to nothing. That's what happened to your friend."

  Then Officer Farthing got an odd look on his face, as if he had noticed something in Keith's expression. "You know something about this, kid? Does this have anything to do with that murder we had the other night?"

  "Sandra was Skrag's, uh, Richard Morton's girlfriend," Keith said robotically.

  "Any reason why someone'd want to kill them?" Farthing asked.

  Keith simply shook his head. He felt drugged. Carrie finally spoke up. "Him, yeah. He was a drug dealer or something." Officer Farthing nodded. "But she wasn't like that. She was a straight-A student, for chrissakes!" Carrie started sobbing again.

  Keith wrapped his arms around her. Suddenly he realized that Mario and Pam were nowhere in sight.

  Officer Farthing pulled out a notepad and scribbled something on the top sheet. He tore it off and gave it to Keith.

  "I know this is a bad time, but I'm going to want to talk to you both later. Here's my number at the station. Call me, even if you have nothing new to say. I'd at least like to make sure you're all right."

  Both Keith and Carrie agreed to call. Officer Farthing motioned them to leave then.

  Keith kept his arm around Carrie as they walked away. By this time, the police had succeeded in dispersing all but the most persistent of gawkers.

  They found Mario and Pam together in the parking lot. They both looked quite shaken, Mario more so than Pam. Beyond them, Keith noticed many empty parking spaces. Students and faculty were leaving.

  "They called off school today, dude," Mario told him. Keith looked closely at his friend. He could tell something was happening behind Mario's eyes.

  "Was it her?" Mario asked.

  "Yeah," Keith said. "You know, she called me last night." They all looked at him sharply.

  Keith looked at Mario and spoke carefully. "She said she knew who killed Skrag, and why."

  Fear and anger burned in Mario's eyes. "I swear I didn't do it," he said.

  "She told you Mario did it?" Carrie asked in total disbelief.

  "Yeah," Keith said, still looking at Mario. "But then she changed her mind and wouldn't tell me why. But I imagine it had something to do with the fight. What was that fight over, anyway, Mario?"

  "Oh, Skrag was just talking shit," he said abruptly.

  "Is there a problem, Mario?" Carrie said quietly. "We're your friends. We can help you."

  Keith and Carrie stared at Mario. Pam looked up at him, silent and pale. His hand gripped his forehead. He started to walk away, but Carrie reached out a hand to stop him. He spun around again, his expression wild now, like the face of a trapped animal.

  "Look, I didn't like Skrag. And lately, he was on my case about something. But that something is the reason why I couldn't have killed him. My motive is my alibi, guys. You see what I mean?"

  Keith's eyes narrowed to slits as a glimmer of understanding dawned on him.

  "Where were you when they were killed?" Keith asked in a low voice.

  Tears welled in Mario's eyes, but he remained silent. Finally Pam spoke.

  "He was with me," she said quietly.

  Keith erupted in fury, leaped at Mario, and slammed him against his car. Mario didn't make a move to defend himself.

  "You bastard!" Keith screamed, grabbing Mario by the collar. Mario's hands hung limply at his side as Keith battered him again and again against the side of the car.

  "What am I? A farm team for your girlfriends, Mario?" he yelled. "Is that it?" Like a viper, he turned on Pam. "And you?" He pounded his bruised hand on Mario's car. The pain brought on the tears that had been waiting. "Dammit!" he screamed.

  "Keith, don't…" Carrie said, reaching for his shoulder. He roughly shook her away.

  "You stay away, too. Let's talk again in about six months and you can tell me how it feels to be dumped and alone."

  Carrie recoiled as if he had punched her. And he was glad. She turned and began to cry. He looked around himself and felt good, for once, that he was speaking his mind instead of politely bowing out and being impotently understanding.

  The feeling lasted until Mario blindsided him and pinned him up against a car.

  "You finished now?" he hissed. Keith saw the evil Mario before him, totally revealed. " 'Cause I'm in trouble, dude, bigger trouble than if I stole a dozen of your girlfriends. Sandra may have told the police that she thought I killed Skrag. Maybe she told them that Skrag saw me and Pam together and threatened to blow the whistle on us." He released Keith and backed away.

  "Pam and I wanted to tell you ourselves, both of you. But Skrag was such a dick about it; that's why we got into that fight. But hell, I'm in high school. You think I'm gonna go around killing someone because I've been caught cheating on my buddy? No one would believe that you'd do something like that. They'd laugh. But I'm me. I come from the barrio, and as far as the police are concerned, I'm totally guilty."

  He laid this out to them, prepared for whatever their judgment might be. Taking a deep breath, he continued. "What my aunt told you is both true and untrue. The people I hung out with killed someone. I saw it happen. But I didn't know it was going to happen. As far as my father was concerned, I pulled the trigger. My aunt felt the same way, but thought I might be 'rehabilitated. She doesn't feel that way anymore. She thinks I killed Skrag."

  "So what's the problem?" Carrie asked. "You were with Pam. She'll vouch for you, and you'll be fine."

  "If they believe her. But maybe they'll say she's under my influence."

  Carrie frowned.

  "Believe me," he pleaded, "I've seen this stuff happen. Especially if the police see you" — he looked directly at Keith — "as angry as you are. If you believe I did it, they might believe it. So I'm asking you, dude, I know I don't deserve it, but help me out. Or I'll fry."

  Keith didn't say anything for a moment. Mario's words were strong, but so was Keith's anger.

  "This is a hard one," he told Mario. "Because I don't know that you didn't do it. I heard that Skrag was killed sometime in the early morning." He focused on Pam, who quickly looked away, then he turned back to Mario.

  "Either you killed Skrag, or you were with Pam at three in the morning. And I sure as hell don't know which would be worse."

  With that, he walked away. They called after him, but he didn't stop. He got into his car
and drove off.

  Chapter 12

  Keith pulled the car over at the outskirts of Springwood. The area was desolate, save for an abandoned factory. He would have kept driving, but tears were blinding his eyes.

  He had hoped to come to some great revelation by now, a sudden moment of enlightenment that would carry with it the answers to everything that preyed upon his mind. But Keith's mind raced far beyond any solutions. He knew one thing: If he hadn't had the dream, it would be easier to believe that Mario was innocent. Instead, the dream had foretold both betrayal and violence. And if a terrible future was revealed in the poster, could it not also be revealed in his dreams? Perhaps Mel was right. Maybe the poster was just a catalyst and receiver for Keith's own bizarre ability. And the dream was another manifestation of that ability. But if that was so, then it appeared Mario's demons had broken free.

  Keith pounded his steering wheel in frustration. What he was thinking was crazy. Yet what had actually happened was even worse. Just short of convincing himself that his best friend was a murderer, Keith's mind wheeled around and headed in the other direction. Mario had seemed terrified of being arrested, and sincere in his claim of innocence. But that was the problem, wasn't it? Things were less and less what they seemed these past few days. He didn't know what to believe anymore. And his temporary retreat to gain perspective was not helping one bit.

  He threw the car back in gear and floored the accelerator. Tires spun and kicked up a cloud of dust as Keith pulled a quick U-turn and headed back into town.

  * * *

  Keith arrived home at lunchtime. As he expected, his answering machine held so many messages that the light blinked continuously. Keith guessed who might have called, and didn't want to hear what any of them had to say. He pressed play anyway.

  Mario, Pam, and Carrie had each left several messages, pleading for him to call them back. At first they merely wanted to talk. As time wore on, and he still didn't answer the phone, they became worried and asked him to call even if he didn't want to talk. They just wanted to know that he was all right. He didn't return any of their calls. His mother had also called. The news of Sandra's death had reached her at the office. Finally, there was a message from Mel.

  "Hey, man, heard about what happened at school this morning." In contrast to how he had reacted to the news of Skrag's murder, Mel sounded troubled. "Stop by as soon as you can. I'll try calling you again later."

  Keith wondered how Mel had found out about Sandra's murder. It was too soon to be on the news. Even if it had been, Sandra's name would not have been released so soon. Of course, Mel had already demonstrated a talent for discovering information quickly. On the other hand, what if Mel was the murderer!

  Suddenly Keith had a premonition. In it, he saw the faces of himself, Mel, Skrag, and Sandra as moons orbiting within the gravitational field of a large planet. But instead of a planet, they orbited "Mysteria," and its attraction was not gravity, but evil.

  Keith clamped his mind shut against the image. Again he felt as if he had been given knowledge denied to others. Knowledge he preferred not to have.

  The only person Keith could think clearly about was his mother. When he returned her call, she immediately offered to leave work early so he wouldn't have to be alone. After a long discussion, he finally talked her out of it, insisting that he did want to be alone for a while. She finally relented, but said she'd rush home right after work.

  Keith was glad his mother hadn't insisted on coming home. He really did need to think. He glanced back at the poster, which he had scrupulously avoided looking at until now. Again it seemed at first glance to be an ordinary poster, radiating none of the sinister energy he had felt before. He wondered how it would make him feel if he touched it. His hand came within inches of the frame before he pulled back. He didn't want to find out; he didn't want to wake it up inadvertently. It might show him something he didn't want to see.

  His phone rang. He let the answering machine pick it up and listened.

  "Hello, Keith," came a familiar voice. "This is Officer Farthing down at the station. Please call me when you return. I'd very much like you to come down and make a statement. I've called your friend Carrie, and thought maybe it'd be more convenient if you came down together." He left the same number he had written down earlier, thanked Keith, and hung up.

  Keith ignored the message and left his room. The police were the last thing on his mind right now. There was nothing he could tell them. For now, he had a lot of thinking to do. Looking at the poster, he knew his room wasn't conducive to concentration.

  Sometimes, he remembered, the best way to solve a problem was not to think about it. Certainly, obsessing had not yet brought him to any conclusions. So he went downstairs to the living room and picked up a book. It was perfect: a cheesy — and undemanding — romance novel of his mother's. Sitting on the couch, Keith began to read. His phone rang, but he ignored it. Fifteen minutes later, it rang once more, so he turned off the ringer. Now he could just focus on reading. Hopefully his turbulent mind would calm, allowing him to think clearly.

  * * *

  Keith looked up from the book again when he heard the front door open. Keys jingled and his mother's voice called his name.

  "I'm here," he answered, closing the book and rising from the couch. He found her in the kitchen.

  "Where have you been?" she asked. "I called a couple times, but you didn't answer the phone."

  "Sorry. I've been reading, and I unplugged the phone," he told her.

  "Well, I was so worried. I almost left work early." She watched him closely, obviously concerned. He tried to play it cool.

  "I'm really sorry," he repeated. "I just haven't wanted to talk to anyone today."

  "I understand, honey," she said sympathetically. "How are you doing now? Have you eaten anything all day? I'll make us some dinner. Marinated chicken breast, okay?" She knew it was his favorite.

  "Sounds good," he said, smiling as enthusiastically as he could. "I'm gonna go upstairs and finish my book. Call me for dinner."

  "It'll be ready in about an hour," she said, looking at her watch. "Six-thirty."

  Keith went up to his room. He didn't like to hang around while his mother worked in the kitchen. Besides, the reading had done him good. He felt calmer, and better able to face the poster, if necessary. He listened to the messages he had amassed over the afternoon. Two were the ones from his mother. There was one more from Mario, and a lengthy message from Carrie.

  "Officer Farthing called me," said her taped voice. "He wants me to come in, but I don't want to go until I talk to you. They took Mario in a few minutes ago. His aunt said they sent a car. That's not a good sign." She paused. "Look, I'm hurt, too. But I talked to Mario. What he and Pam did was stupid — they even had this crazy plan — but that's beside the point. Mario did not kill anyone. I know it. And you have to know it. Look at it this way. If you weren't so angry with Mario, would you think he'd done it?" Again she paused. "We've got to help him. I'll wait a while longer for your call, but if I don't hear from you, I'm going in. I've got to do what I can, whether you will or not. But it would be better if we did this together." Her voice trailed off". She seemed about to continue, but then just hung up.

  Carrie was right. He could never sustain his suspicion of Mario if it weren't for his anger. And if Mario had been taken down to the police station, now was the time to make things right between them. He dialed Carrie's house, but the answering machine answered instead.

  "This is Keith calling for Carrie," he said after the tone. "You're right about Mario. I don't think he killed anyone. I'm still mad at the bastard…" He stopped, realizing her parents might listen to this tape, but it was too late. "Ooops," he laughed sheepishly, "sorry about that. Anyway, I'm on my way to the police station."

  Unintentionally he turned toward the poster as he hung up the phone. He became suddenly and painfully aware of its presence, as if it had begun screaming at him. He eyes locked in on it against his will, and
it drew him a step closer. The receiver fell from his hand and onto the floor.

  "Oh my God!" Keith muttered as a new face appeared. This one nearly leaped out at him, mouth gaping, eyes ovals of fear, shapes like flames in the background. For the first time, Keith recognized the person immediately. It was Mario. As soon as the realization hit, the poster abruptly released him. Keith collapsed onto the floor, stifling a scream as he clutched his head in pain. It took several seconds before he could open his eyes. When he did, he noticed the receiver lying next to him. There was no dial tone. The connection with Carrie's answering machine had not been broken.

  "Carrie," he gasped into the receiver. The pain was so great, he could hardly speak. "If something goes wrong, and I miss you at the station, find Mario. And when you do, stay with him. Don't let him out of your sight. He's in danger. I can't explain, but trust me, I know. The poster I bought, 'Mysteria. I saw their deaths, Skrag's and Sandra's. But I didn't believe it. Now I've seen Mario's." He stopped and tried to catch his breath. "I know it sounds crazy, but believe me. Maybe we can stop it — or whoever's doing this — if we're with him. I don't know." He ran out of things to say. He had to get going. "I'm heading to the station now. I hope I see you there." He hung up. There was a light knock at the door.

  "C'mon in, Mom," he said, trying to compose himself. She entered tentatively, uncomfortable invading his space.

  "Are you okay, Keith? I heard a thump, and…"

  "I'm okay, Mom," he told her. "I dropped the phone. They took Mario to the police station, and I have to go down there." He didn't give her a chance to reply. He just pushed past her and ran for his car.

  * * *

  Keith ran into the police station so quickly, all heads snapped in his direction. He thought he saw one officer reach for his gun.

  "Mario Vasquez," he told a surprised desk clerk. "Is he here?"