Say Live, Let Die

Chapter 25: "lost inside my sick head"

Marko was already settled on the loveseat, chowing down on the cookies, reading the little paper fortune slips. The jar of Paul's bones was on the floor, close to reach. Beth wondered, from the way Marko was quietly reading the fortunes aloud and snickering, if he was imagining Paul to still be with them.

Beth knew she was going to have to keep an eye on Marko and his jar of bones.

Locking the doors to the master suite, she turned to head towards the bathroom. David was on the bed, lying on the side previously occupied by both Marko and Beth. Far enough away from the lamp on the nightstand that he was shrouded in shadow, the blonde could tell David was staring blankly at the vaulted ceiling. Maybe he'd found the cobweb, too?

Finding dry clothes, Beth cleaned up and changed in the bathroom. By the time she came back into the main part of the bedroom, Marko was curled up under his blanket, softly snoring. She marveled how he always looked so angelic when he was asleep.

Switching off the lamp, Beth climbed into the California king bed, pulling the covers up. David hadn't moved and she could tell he was still staring, though it was obvious his mind was a million miles away.

It wasn't new. David had always been like this, even before Max had turned him. It made him dangerous to those who didn't know how to think three steps ahead like David did. Always thinking, always plotting, always looking for the next move.

Stretching out her arm under the covers, Beth's fingertips were nearly on his shoulder when David growled. "Don't touch me."

She almost ignored his warning. Almost. Not up to fighting, because that's exactly what would happen, Beth withdrew her hand. Settling on her right side, she slowly and carefully inched across the mattress, until she was next to David. There was still a gap of space between them but she made her presence known.

David said nothing more, just stared at the ceiling. Beth closed her eyes and fell asleep.

***

David felt the sharp points of the horns enter his back, the force of impact sliding them through his body like hot knives. He screamed, yelled, pleaded. He laid his head back, suddenly exhausted, the pelts of dead animals under him forming a macabre funeral bier.

He heard Paul screaming, Dwayne screeching in a high-pitched tone. There weren't words to understand; the noise was pure fear. They were dying and couldn't fight back.

David's eyes closed and everything went dark.

It felt like a second, or maybe eternity, before his eyes opened again. He couldn't see; correction, there was nothing to see. Pure blackness, no pinpoint of light to give it depth, shape, dimensions. He tried to raise a hand to wave it in front of his face. David couldn't see it. He felt his arm move, his hand wave, but there was also disconnect. He felt not entirely in control of his body.

David screamed. The noise should have carried, maybe even echoed, but he only heard the sound muffled inside his head. He screamed again but the same thing happened. There was no sound in this light-less void.

Was he running or was his brain imagining the motion, the movement of his legs, the swinging of his arms? He was panting harshly but unsure he was drawing air into his lungs. Did he need air? Was he breathing at all? His nervous system was overloading and panic set in.

Dead? Was he dead? Had he died on that workbench, the horns sticking up through his chest? Where were Paul and Dwayne? They had entered the old man's house with him, to get revenge on Michael and Star, the younger brother and his little friends. They had flown to the property. The Lost Boys had flown over Max's house, startled Thorn within, he had barked at them. They had flown out of the cave, over the endless waves of the Pacific Ocean. David, Paul, and Dwayne had dropped from the ceiling, finally awake, sunset at last...

David stopped screaming. There was laughter in this endless void. Was he laughing? It sounded like another voice, an unknown voice, laughing darkly...

Throwing his head back, he yelled names. At least his mind thought they were names. They were words, but what was a word? What was he? What had he been?

Who was he?

David, he answered his breaking mind. I am David, of the Lost Boys.

The laughter came back, louder this time...