Martha Moore watched her niece leave the kitchen. She didn’t return her attention to Maggy, until footsteps were heard overhead and the door to the child’s room was opened and deftly shut.

“I’d like to talk to you, Maggy, in the den.”

Maggy nodded and told her brother, “Joey, go get Aunty’s things out of her car and put them in the guest room.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“What is it?” Maggy took a seat in the back room as her aunt settled on the leather chair closest to the fireplace.

“I want to know what’s been going on around here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Priscilla Celban ambushed me when I pulled into the drive. She was a little too informative when she hauled me over there to look at her mutilated flowerbeds. She must have been lying in wait, just to be first to tell me her version of what happened yesterday.”

The front door opened and they heard Joe scuffing up the stairs with Martha’s bags.

When Maggy didn’t respond, Martha continued, “She also told me what happened this morning when she tried to get–what did she call it?”

“Restitution,” Maggy offered.

“That’s it. She said she wasn’t satisfied with what was being done about the problem. She suggested it was my place, in my sister’s stead, to step in and put my foot down about how her children were being raised.”

“Suggesting that Chief can’t handle things? What did you tell her?”

Martha regarded the young woman, and for the first time, realized that Maggy was no longer a child. “I told her I approve of the way your father has handled things so far, and that I am sure my sister would, also. And I pointed out that soon, you children will have a new mother and my duties, whatever they were, would become hers.”

“I bet that went over well.”

Martha smiled. “Priscilla, and many of the other women in this town, do not approve of Elly Saunders.”

“Who cares,” Maggy muttered.

“No one that matters,” Martha said, surprising the girl. They were quiet for a brief moment, then Martha broke the silence. “Tell me what happened Maggy, I have a feeling I just experienced some of it.”

“You mean Kelly’s behavior?”

“That child is strung so tightly, I’m afraid she’s about to snap.”

“And Miss Celban’s garden is a result of that snapping?”

“Was it?”

“There was a little more to it than that, Aunty.” Maggy proceeded to fill her aunt in on the workings of the day before, as well as what occurred that morning, and Kelly’s explanation.

“And Priscilla claimed the child was lying?”

“She said Kelly spoke with a forked tongue.”

“Was Kelly looking directly at your father when she told her side of the story?”

Maggy smiled. “Yes.”

“Then she spoke the truth. I’ve never met such a child that was so incapable of telling untruths to a parent. I can’t believe Priscilla could be so cruel. To tell her such horrid things!” She scowled. “You said Mike was injured?”

“He was hit in the woods by one of Mr. Blackney’s booby-traps.”

“My goodness! Is he all right?”

“He’s fine. He's in Chief’s office working now.”

Again the women fell silent until Martha abruptly changed the subject. “How are you coming with your preparations, dear?”

Maggy looked up. “Well, Kelly and I finished all the baking and early preparations on the refreshments. All I really have left is last minute alterations on Kelly’s dress. I'm going to do that right after I clean up the kitchen and start supper.”

“Why don’t you let me handle the kitchen and supper? You run along and finish what you need to do for tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, of course. I have nothing to do for now, anyway.”

“Thank you, Aunty. I really do appreciate this.”

“What were you planning to have tonight?”

“Well, I expect we’ll have a few extra people for supper. Mike will still be here; he’s waiting on a phone call and to talk to Chief about their progress so far. And Sergeant Moss, he’s the officer who’s helping Chief with this case. I’m sure it will be late by the time they get back from the Berritts. Chief will want him to stay.”

“Sergeant Moss?” asked Martha. “Meriwether Moss?”

“You know him?”

“He worked with your father around the time Joe was born. A murder investigation.”

“Same man.”

“He wasn’t a sergeant then.”

“He said he was fired after that case. Works for Highway Patrol, now. Anyway, I was planning to have a pot roast. Everything needed is in the icebox.”

Martha nodded still contemplating what Moss was doing here.

“Thank you again, Aunty.”

Martha listened to Maggy’s footsteps trail the stairs before she too, rose and walked to the kitchen. “Meriwether Moss,” she muttered under her breath. “Sergeant?” 

* * * * *

Mike had just finished his outline when a high-pitched scream pierced the otherwise quiet of the house. As Maggy completed her last stitch, the scream drove the needle into her thumb. Martha was downstairs, chopping up vegetables to add to the roast and came close to losing a section of her index finger when the scream sliced through the air, distracting her.

Mike hit the landing at the same time Martha did. They took a second to look at each other before Mike led the way up the stairs. Maggy was at the child’s side when they pushed into the room.

“Mr. Mort!” 

It was apparent to all she was still trapped within the confines of her terrifying nightmare. Her brow was perspiring heavily; her pillow lay on the floor across the room; blankets were strewn around the foot of the bed. The child’s shirt and bedding were drenched. 

“It’s got him! The tiger’s got him! Chief! Chief! Help him! The tiger’s biting his throat!” She rocked violently back and forth. Arms and legs flailing.

“Kelly,” Maggy soothed trying to hold the child down and control her thrashing. But in Kelly’s fury, Maggy was repeatedly pushed off.

“Don’t touch! Chief! Help me!” Her eyes remained clenched shut. She shook with violent terror.

Maggy noticed Mike, her eyes beseeching. He pulled up on the other side of the bed.

“Kelly,” he said quietly. “It’s Mike. Can you hear me?”

“Chief! Mr. Mort! It’s killing him!”

Mike put the hand of his uninjured arm on the child’s brow. He looked at Maggy. “My god, she’s burning up.”

“We need to calm her down,” Maggy whispered, still trying to gain control over the thrashing child.

“It’s a fever, Maggy. She needs the Doc.”

“I’ll call him,” Martha said behind him, then disappeared from the room.

“Kelly, listen to me…” Mike whispered, his hand on her shoulder. But the shaking increased and the thrashing intensified, forcing Mike to try a different tact. “Kelly!” Mike yelled, trying to break through the barrier that separated the child from reality.

“No!” she screamed, but her voice was losing force.  “Mr. Mort! Blood! So much...his head…” She stopped suddenly, her body still. When Maggy and Mike loosened their grip, she bolted upright in bed; her eyes flew open wide and she screamed–shrilly. Tears streaked her cheeks, yet her eyes focused on nothing.

Maggy moved in and took the child forcefully into her arms. She pulled her to her body and rocked her gently.

“Shh,” Maggy soothed, stroking the child’s hair. “Shhh ... It’s going to be all right... everything..." 

Mike watched as Maggy’s eyes filled with tears.

“Please, Kelly,” Maggy whispered. “Wake up. It’s all right. Everything is going to be all right. I promise.”

Kelly’s screaming stopped as abruptly as it had started.

“Kelly? ... Are you all right?” Maggy asked, turning to  Mike when again her question went un-answered.

Maggy pulled away and regarded her sister’s face. There was no trace of emotion or recognition in the child’s expression. There was nothing but emptiness in her eyes.

Maggy's eyes filled with tears as they met Mike's.

“What is it?” he asked, unable to see the child’s face.

“My god,” Maggy whispered, her arms encircling her sister. “She’s blank.”

Mike’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“She’s blank,” Maggy said again, this time her voice was louder, but constricted. “My god, Mike.”

Mike turned the child to face him and saw that it was true.

“What are we going to do?” Maggy asked.

“Wait for the Doc.”

“This is going to kill Chief.” Maggy kept her voice low. She pulled the child to her again, holding her close until Martha returned with Doc Granger, Joe slipping in behind them.

Doc took his place at the child’s side. He took Kelly from her sister and lowered her back on the bed. When he noticed the absence of expression, he glanced at Maggy, concern furrowing his brow. “What the devil happened?”

“She started screaming…” Maggy was unable to control her tears. “When we came up she was thrashing. We tried to calm her down, but the nightmare... it wouldn’t let her go. That was when we noticed the fever–”

“Fever?” Doc checked the child. “She has no fever.”

Mike glanced up. “She was burning up, Doc.”

“She’s not anymore.” Doc returned his attention to Maggy.

Maggy swallowed sharply. She filled her lungs when she realized she hadn’t had a breath in some time. “She wouldn’t stop screaming, Doc. Then, all of a sudden, she did stop. And then this.”

Joe, who had moved in behind his aunt, took notice. When he realized his sister had, once again, retreated, he shouted, “No!”

Mike looked at him. “Joe–”

“Not again! Doc do something,” the boy pleaded. “Not again!”

“I’ll do what I can, son. But, quite honestly, there isn’t much I can do.”

Doc turned to Maggy, shaking his head. “I’m sorry.” He pulled out a hypodermic from his bag and filled the chamber with medicine. “This will put her back to sleep.”

“Then what?” Maggy asked.

“She will either wake like nothing’s happened, or she’ll be like before. For how long, I’m afraid I don’t know. She’s been under a constant emotional crisis now for the last few weeks. Maybe her system just overloaded. Maybe all she needs is uninterrupted, dreamless sleep.”

Doc gave the child the shot and watched as her eyelids drooped, then finally closed. He glanced up at the others in the room. “That’s all we can do for now,” he explained. “I wish there was more–”

“I understand, Doctor.” Maggy rose without conviction and left the room. Mike noticed her own emotional drain and became worried for her. Joe took his position in the child’s rocker.

He looked from Mike to his aunt, his chin high, his gaze unwavering. “I’m not leaving until she wakes up."

“That could take awhile, Joe,” Aunt Martha told him quietly. “It may be better if you came downstairs.”

Joe glared at her. “It’s your fault. She didn’t want to go, you made her. Isn’t it enough that she has to put up with that hell every night?! But, no! You had to make her face it before she was ready. It’s your fault! She wasn’t ready- You made her go!”

The boy’s words cut the woman sharply. “I didn’t realize, Joe. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Martha,” Mike said glancing at the boy. “It’s these dreams of hers. They grip her… hold her. This would have happened sooner or later, regardless.”

“But she made–”

“Your sister can’t continue to fear sleeping, Joe. She needs to come to terms with these nightmares she’s having. She was physically and mentally exhausted. This could be a result of that exhaustion, not simply her taking a nap.”

“That’s true,” agreed the doctor. “She’s been under a lot of stress. Maybe she felt the need to retreat- to get away from the cause of that distress.”

 Joe glanced at the doctor, and then returned to Mike before centering all his attention on his sister, lying motionless on the bed. “Do you think she’ll be all right?” He directed the question to his father’s deputy.

Mike gave him with a weary smile. Then he nodded and said, “Yes, I do. I honestly believe she will be fine.”

“How do you know?”

“Because she got out once. I think, now she knows the way.”

Joe nodded. Then he turned to his aunt. “I’m still staying.”

“That’s fine,” she said, turning to Mike. The look in her eyes conveyed a ‘thank you’ she couldn’t speak.

Mike found Maggy downstairs in the kitchen. She sat at the table; her head placed face down, resting on the tabletop, her arms over her head.

Mike sat next to her, and placed his arm protectively around her shoulders. “Are you all right?” She pulled her head off the table, but continued to stare downward. When she turned to him, her face was red and puffy, her eyes draining tears down the sides of her face. Mike pulled her head to his chest and gently rubbed her shoulder.

“How are we going to tell him,” she sobbed. “How are we going to tell Chief? ... This will kill him–” She pulled sharply away from Mike. When again she looked at him her eyes were wide. “Chief,” she whispered. “My god, Mike. If something happened to Mort, Chief’s with him.”

Mike nodded. “I’ll call Berritts Hills; see if Chambers can get a line on them.”

“Hurry, Mike.”

Mike rose and went to the phone. He placed the call and waited for Chambers to pick up the line at the other end, as Martha entered the kitchen.

“Chambers?” Mike said. “This is Mike Flannery.”

“What can I do for you, Deputy?”

“Have you seen Chief Broden and Sergeant Moss, today?”

“Early this morning. They went out after a citizen of mine. Smiley Bennet.”

“Is there any way you could get in touch with this Bennet?”

“He lives out in the middle of the Berritts, Deputy. He has no phone and I have no idea where his actual premises are located. What’s this all about?”

“I have reason to believe they may be in trouble, sheriff. Is there any way you could get a line on them?”

“What makes you think there is trouble?”

“I can’t go into it right now. Can you send some men after them?”

“I can try searching the woods. But honestly, I have no idea where to start. I’ll do what I can.”

“I’d appreciate that, thanks,” Mike hung up the phone and turned to Maggy.

“Is he going to help?” Maggy asked.

“He’s going to dispatch some men. Right now, that’s all he can do, he has no idea where Bennet lives. They’ll search the woods.”

Martha stared at him. “You think there’s trouble? Because of a nightmare?”

“Yes.” Maggy glanced at Mike and continued. “Kelly sees things in these nightmares, then they come true.”

“But how is that possible?”

“We don’t know how, Aunty. Just that it happens.”

“Oh, my,” exclaimed Martha. “Then your father and Meriwether are in grave danger?”

“It would seem so, Martha,” Mike added. “But all we can do now is wait.”

* * * * *

“Chief  and Mort had been traveling for over an hour back through the brush. They were nearing the final leg of their trip.

Shhh,” Moss said. “Stop. Listen.”

“What is it?”

“There’s someone up ahead.”

“I don’t hear–wait. You’re right,” Chief agreed. “They’re headed this way.”

Moss motioned to an outcropping to the left of their path. “Let’s go over there. Maybe we can overtake them. Get the bastard before he gets us.”

Chief nodded and led Moss to the group of trees and accompanying bushes. They ducked out of sight and waited for the noises to approach, handguns drawn and ready.

The squishing sound of boots making contact with the muddied ground, could be heard making its way  down the path the two men had just left. Chief deduced there were two men (or a man and boy) sloshing their way along the trail. Looming gray shapes eventually accompanied the noise, but neither form was small enough to belong to a boy. The figures spoke quietly to each other, their words indistinguishable. Moss and Chief waited patiently until the men were upon them, then they broke from the brush and leveled their guns in front of them.

“Broden?”

“Chambers? Jesus man, what are you doing here?”

Chambers studied Chief carefully, watching as he holstered his Colt. “Your deputy sent us out here. Said he had reason to believe you were in some kind of trouble.”

“He said that?”

“Yeah... but I see it was just a fools errand–” Chambers looked up to catch sight of Mort for the first time. “Christ! What happened to you?” he asked, after noticing the bruises on the man’s neck and Moss’s bloodshot eyes.

“What did Mike say, exactly?” Chief asked, regaining the Sheriff's attention.

“He said he couldn’t go into it over the phone, but that he suspected you were in trouble. I said we’d do what we could to locate you. I dispatched my entire force when we found your pick-up at the side of the road and fanned out from there. We spread out as much as possible to cover more ground. But quite honestly our stumbling upon your trail was nothing short of dumb luck.”

“I see.” Broden's thoughts turned to his daughter. Another nightmare, this time she was forced to witness “Mr. Mort” in the tiger’s clutches.

“So what happened? Meet up with Blackney?”

Chief looked away from his thoughts and returned his attention to the large man who blocked the path. “Yeah, but he got away, and won’t be coming back to Bennet’s.”

“Sorry to hear that, Broden. I really am.”

The group followed the overgrown path back towards Berritts. An hour later they broke through the brush and  noticed Chief Broden’s truck less than a hundred yards away, flanked by four patrol cars belonging to the Berritts Hills Police Department. An officer stood watch at the cars, when he saw the party pull away from the woods he began to blast the siren to recall his fellow officers.

Chambers walked Chief to his car. He stopped along side of it and stared. “You will fill me in on what’s going on around here someday? Like how the devil your deputy knew about the Sergeant’s condition? And how you traced Blackney to Bennet? It sounds like it could make a hell of a story.”

Chief stared at him momentarily, before answering. "If I told you what has been going on in this case, you wouldn’t believe it. Hell I don’t even believe it and I’m the one living this nightmare.”

Chambers nodded. “Well, let me know if you need anything from me or my men.”

Chief nodded. “Thanks.” He watched Chambers retreat to his patrol car.“Chambers.”

Chambers turned.

“Could you do me a favor?”

“What’s that?”

“We’d make better time if we just left for Middleton from here. Could you call my house and let everyone there know we’re all right and we’re on our way home- should be there within the hour.”

Chambers smiled. “I was going to do that anyway. Flannery sounded overly agitated. Take care, Broden.”

Chief waved Chambers away and crawled behind the steering wheel. Moss got in on the other side of him. Their eyes locked briefly. Then without a word, Chief put the truck into gear and pulled out onto the highway, heading home. 

© Copyright 2025 C J Driftwood. All rights reserved.