Brandon Massey - Thunderland

THUNDERLAND

Novels

Dark Corner

Within the Shadows

The Other Brother

Vicious

Dont Ever Tell

Cornered

Collections

Twisted Tales

Anthologies

Dark Dreams

Voices from the Other Side: Dark Dreams II

Whispers in the Night: Dark Dreams III

The Ancestors (with Tananarive Due and LA. Banks)

BRANDON MASSEY

Dark Corner Publishing

Atlanta, Georgia

Copyright 1998, 2002 by Brandon Massey

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

ISBN: 978-0-9708075-4-0

For more information:
Email: support@darkcornerpublishing.com
Web site: www.darkcornerpublishing.com

In memory of Chester Massey, my grandfather,

who taught me how to dream.

Even though Jason Brooks awoke from the most frightening nightmare in his life on that June morning, the real terror began only a few minutes later, when he entered the bathroom for the first time that day.

Curled up in a fetal position, hands fisted, heart pounding, Jason awoke lying in the cool darkness underneath his bed. He blinked, disoriented. Shards of dream images gleamed in his mind like fragments of a shattered mirror. As he blinked several more times, fully regaining consciousness, the images faded, vanished into the blackness that washed away all bad dreams. Gradually, his heartbeat slowed.

He became aware of his throbbing jaws. Rubbing his face with his hand, he opened and closed his mouth, relaxing the tense muscles. His teeth had been clenched, as if to bite back a scream.

Finally, he rested his head on the soft carpet.

It had been the nightmare again.

For the past three months, hed had the dream at least once a week. Utterly terrifying, it always concluded in the same fashion: he awakened curled in a ball under the bed, heart hammering, hands squeezed into fists, and teeth clamped together. Frightened to the marrow.

He didnt understand the dream. He couldnt figure out whether it was a chilling vision of the future or only a twisted creation of his overactive imagination. Hed never mentioned the dream to anyone. Telling someone about it would make it more real; keeping it private made it easier to ignore. He hoped the series of nightmares ended before someone discovered him cowering under the bed, shaking like a little kid, though he was clueless about exactly how he could make the dreams stop.

Resolving to forget about the nightmare and get his day rolling, he began to squirm from underneath the bed. When he was halfway out, the door opened.

Oh, no, he thought. Busted.

Good morning, sleepyhead, Mom said, poking her head inside. What on earth are you doing under there?

Uh, looking for my birthday presents. He pulled his legs out from under the bed and got to his feet. His fourteenth birthday was coming soon, so he used it to create a half-believable story. But I didnt find any gifts. Where did you hide them, Mom?

Mom stepped inside, her eyebrows arched questioningly. Youre kidding.

Im serious.

You were really under there looking for gifts?

Yeah. Sometimes the best place to hide something is right under a persons nose. Like that old detective story about the letter. Whats the name of it?

The Purloined Letter, by Edgar Allan Poe. A full-time freelance writer with a bunch of romance novels to her credit, Mom seemed to know the details of every story that had ever been written. She leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, head cocked sideways as she regarded him.

Although Jason felt strange admitting it, he clearly saw why everyone said his mother was beautiful. Linda Brooks was a petite woman, blessed with flawless mahogany skin, dark, curly hair, and large brown eyes. She was dressed for the season in a flower-patterned blouse, matching skirt, and sandals. He supposed he could understand why guys stared at her whenever she walked past, though it felt odd to think about his own mother as being pretty-especially considering all the dirty secrets he knew about her.

Im in the mood to do a little detective work myself, Mom said. She tapped her lip. Hmmm ... something tells me this has nothing to do with birthday presents. Im thinking that you were actually sleeping under the bed.

There was no way he was going to tell her about his nightmare. Sitting on the mattress, he scratched his head, acting dumbfounded by her suggestion.

Why would I do something like that, Mom?

I dont know. You tell me.

I cant tell you anything. Because I didnt do it.

Okay, Im a mother, Jason. Ever heard of mothers intuition? I feel as if youre hiding something from me.

I feel as if youre hiding something from me, too, he said. My birthday presents.

She shook her head. Youre something else.

Mom, I dont know what youre talking about. I told you the truth. Why dont you believe me?

Im only concerned about you. Is it wrong for a mom to be worried about her son?

It is if shes only faking.

Mom ran her fingers through her hair. She frowned.

Lets not go down that road, okay? Im really not in the mood to argue with you.

Oh, I forgot. You wont be in the mood to argue until you get drunk.

What are you saying? You know I dont drink anymore.

Yeah, right.

I havent had a drink since March.

You could change.

Im not going to fall back into those old habits. I mean it.

So? Youve meant it before, then went right back to being a drunk.

Jason, Im not denying that. Ive made those mistakes plenty of times, and Im ashamed to admit it. But Ive changed, honey. I have a new set of priorities.

Youre going to try a new brand of whiskey?

Watch it, boy. Im not going to tolerate much more of that smart mouth of yours.

Fine. He shrugged. Although he knew it was wrong, he enjoyed talking back to her. She claimed that she was a new Mom, and as part of her revamped attitude she was determined to keep her cool, so he said whatever he wanted to her until she drew the line. Being a smart-ass was payback for the way shed treated him in the past. His bold, bratty comments even surprised him sometimes. The old Mom wouldve popped him in the mouth before he completed a sentence.

Now, my new priorities have nothing to do with drinking, Mom said. She pulled the swivel chair away from Jasons desk and sat in it, rotating so that she faced Jason. Youre one of my new priorities. I want to be a good mother to you because youre a good kid, and you deserve the best I can give you. Showing you that I love you is the most important thing in my life. With that as my goal, I cant afford to ever drink again.

Yeah, yeah, Jason said. Right. Heard it all before.

Listen, I dont expect you to believe me overnight, Mom said. I know you feel a lot of bitterness. But everyone wants to be loved. You might resent me for how I treated you, but I still believe you want me to love you. Youre not above those feelings, honey.

Jason looked away from her. He regretted that hed let her open this subject. For the time being, she was taking this new Mom act of hers seriously: talking to him as though she were interested in his life, cooking for him, buying him things, and doing a bunch of other crap that would supposedly convince him that she cared about him. She had begun this act that past