THE NIGHTMARE WITHIN: Chapter 1

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

As night descended, the activity buzzing through the museum died to an afterthought.  The carpenters had left for the day.  Nearly finished with their work in the old Carnegie Library, they were happy to be home with their families for the weekend.  They had finished erecting the display enclosures, and by now, little of the building resembled its former purpose.  Someone had removed the packaging material from the new ornate chandeliers, and their warm light cast spidery shadows across the gray marble walls. 

With the museum set to open the following Friday, Maury Bennett now spent most of his time here.  More befitting the excitement surrounding the opening of an amusement park, Lucidity would open on the Friday night before Labor Day.  There would be a write up in the Chicago Tribune's Weekend section, and Nolan Gage had mentioned renting giant lights to pan the sky like at an old-time movie premier.

As Maury headed for the elevator at the far side of the foyer, he caught a glimpse of a red light splashed across the floor leading into the Serenity Wing.  He was about to investigate when the memory popped into his head.  Rocky.  He always imagined the dream cat would come for him.  Not long after his brother's burial, Maury had heard the first murmurings.  Rumors.  Gossip.  On the news or in three column inch stories hidden at the center of the newspaper.  People would see a burning cat near their home.  A little girl would come across a cat covered in flames stalking a field mouse. 

Feeling foolish, Maury ducked into the Serenity Wing, and felt even more foolish for the cause.  He had been scared by an illuminated exit sign. 

He chuckled to himself as he walked back to the elevator.  As he pressed the down button, the memory of his brother became his focal point.  Dale, his constant shadow growing up.  The little pest could get on his nerves in a split second or bring out Maury's sensitive side with his unrelenting devotion.  He missed his brother.

Dale pulled the tent flap closed, carrying yet another blanket from their mother just in case a blizzard might chase away the Indian Summer warmth of late September.  It was closer to winter than the boys wanted to admit.  It was the dying days for everything: the sun's warmth, the trees holding onto the last of their withered leaves, the last peaceful days for their family.

"They're drinking wine," Dale said.  He had brought enough equipment for a week of camping down by the river, instead of a night in their backyard.  There wasn't a single square inch free in the three-person tent.

"So, what's wrong with that?"

"They never drink wine.  It's like they don't want us in the house.  They're celebrating."

"You're crazy.  Gimme your canteen."

"Told you you'd be thirsty," Dale said with his bunched up I told you so face.  He tossed him the canteen anyway.

"Aw, I'm not thirsty.  I just need to take a wiz."  Maury put the canteen between his legs and pretended to unzip his fly.

Dale lunged for his canteen, but Maury held it at arm's length. 

"Gimme it back."

"It's mine now."  Maury let the canteen fall within easy reach of Dale's hand and then yanked it away.  He sat on the canteen, grabbed Dale by the arm and peppered his shoulder with punches.

Dale squealed in pain, but after years of roughhousing, Maury knew his brother's pain threshold.

"Say uncle, little boy.  Say it."  Maury increased the force of his punches, focusing his knuckles at just the right pressure point.