A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 02

"Fuck you!" Lori sucked in and hocked up the biggest, greenest lunger she had ever made in her life. With a sneer, she spat it onto Freddy's face. It landed with a heavy splat and stuck to his cheek. Freddy casually looked down at the gob, amused and even a little impressed at her defiance.

"Always a spitfire," Freddy nodded as his tongue snaked out and licked the ball of snot off his face, "You getting a cold, Lori?"

Lori turned in his grip, hoping to slip away, but to no avail.

"This is a dream," she growled and then looked up into the air, "Someone wake me up!"

Freddy bellowed with maniacal laughter, holding his stomach with his gloved hand.

"Wake me up!" she screamed frantically.

Freddy glared at her, his eyes burning yellow and haggard, rotten teeth gleaming behind his drawn back fleshy lips. He pulled her to him and held her there as though they were about to dance. His breath seeped into her nose and mouth and filled her with nausea. The dead man smiled wickedly and came within and inch of her face. Lori knew he was going to kiss her, that he was going to plant his decaying mouth on her lip. She felt her mind slipping away to panic, to the overwhelming fear.

"Don't lose it now, bitch," Freddy growled and tapped his bladed index finger on her cheek, "I have a lot to do tonight, so just think of this as a courtesy call."

"What do you want?" she asked, slowly regaining her composure.

"It's time," he said, tilting his head slightly with a predatory regard, "I've been away from my children for far too long, Lori."

"I'm so sorry for you," Lori glared at him. She realized she was standing with her back to the table and could feel the edge of it pressing against her ass. Roaches were climbing up her dress, clinging to the fabric with their hooked legs and working their way up. She let her right hand fall back to the table. The roaches were still swarming, immediately burying her hand. She quietly slipped her hand deep into the mass of them, keeping her attention focused on Freddy.

"I'm not strong enough to kill you yet," Freddy said, his voice filled with deep resentment and disappointment, "But the time will come. You and I... we have a score to settle."

"What?" Lori asked, feeling her way through the mass of bugs, "You killed all my friends and then I killed you... sounds like we're even."

She didn't dare look over at Will, even though she could hear him convulsing violently in his chair, shaking the mound of cockroaches covering him. She could hear them eating his flesh, the wet sounds of meat being opened and ripped away.

"No," he shook his head and ran his sharp index finger down over the scars he had given her and then to her cleavage. The blade was cool and deadly against her silky flesh. He said, "You, like all the others, are mine. Mine and mine alone. Jason wouldn't fucking stop when he was supposed to. He served his purpose, but he pissed on my plans. You're MY children..."

Lori finally found what she was looking for. She grasped the butter knife tightly and slowly started pulling it back towards her. She could feel countless little legs tickling her neck and squirming into her hair as she tried to keep Freddy talking. She wanted to scream, to have a conniption fit and flee. She forced herself to stay cool, to keep her eyes level with Freddy.

The roaches were beginning to bite her skin, nibbling and pulling.

'Do roaches bite?' she thought crazily as she drew the butter knife to her.

"I want my children back," Freddy said evenly, "And you're going to help me."

"Bullshit," she replied. A roach was working into her ear. She could here it scratching and clawing, the sound magnified a hundred times over as it invaded her ear canal. She summoned all her strength and resolve, reminding herself it was only a dream, only a dream only a fucking stupid dream!

"But you will," Freddy purred and opened his hand over her stomach. He placed the blades gently across her belly and rested his palm there.

"It doesn't matter," Lori said, bringing the knife to her back, "Everyone thinks Jason did all the killings and you had nothing to do with it. No one believes me that you were there. You need people to be afraid of you before can do jack shit."

"Things change," Freddy sneered, "I've always believed in second chances. Besides, this time around, I've bought myself a little insurance in case Jason run amuck again..."

"Again?" she repeated.

Freddy nodded.

Lori smiled broadly at him. The eerie quality to her grin made the dream killer pause for a moment, his face marked with uncertainty.

"Want to know what I think?" Lori whispered, steeling herself for what she knew she had to do next.

Freddy furrowed his brow and leaned in close to her, "Do tell..."

"Jason kicked your ass."

Lori brought the butter knife up high into the air and plunged it into Krueger's left eye. The eyeball popped and gushed a yellow, foul puss out across his face. Freddy released her and staggered back as his mutilated eye spewed gore across the dining room. In the moments that followed, Lori saw that no one was noticing what was happening. They all simply sat there and carried on about their meals and business.

Gore spattered expensive suits and hairdo's as droplets of puss rained down on the guests filling the dining room. A large hunk of Krueger's eye landed on to the plate of an older woman a few feet away. The jelly like substance had come to rest right on her salad. The old woman took her fork and poked the ruined eye along with her romaine lettuce.

Lori almost vomited as the old lady ate it.

She whirled around and kicked Freddy as hard she could in the crotch and shoved him back. He reeled backwards, off balance and about to crash into a nearby table when he stopped suddenly. He was doubled over, his face hidden by his bladed hand. His shoulders were shaking a little at first, and then violently. Lori thought maybe she had really dealt him a serious blow as Krueger shook. He then pulled the butter knife out of his socket and as his hand uncovered his face, Lori realized he was laughing at her.

The knife fell to the floor with a musical rebound.

He stared with his one good eye, face wet with the nasty liquid spurting from his socket and pointed at her.

"Eye for an eye, Lori!" Freddy rushed forward and slashed at her. She ducked and then felt an incredible, searing pain in her left eye socket. Lori stumbled backwards and crashed into the table. She landed hard on her ass as cockroaches went flying everywhere from the collapsing table. Freddy was on top of her immediately, straddling her and pinning her down. Freddy raised his hand, poised for the strike.

Lori looked to her left and saw one of the candles from the table still burning right by her hand. A crimson teardrop birthed from her left eye as broken blood vessels splintered across the soft jelly.

"Get ready for the rematch," Freddy said.

Lori reached out and grabbed the candle, cupping the flame in her palm. She screamed as her hand burned. She could hear Krueger bringing his clawed hand down for the final blow. Metal hissed in front of her face.

"Lori?!"

She screamed.

"Lori?! Wake up!"

Her eyes bolted open and she found herself looking at the white, scared face of her husband. Will was holding her close, and Lori became aware that she was lying on the floor of the restaurant. Lori began scratching at her self wildly, kicking her legs and flailing her arms. She could still feel the roaches on her, crawling and biting her. Will held her close, trying to restrain her.

"Lori!" Will shouted, holding her tight as her legs kicked. "It's okay! Stop, baby! It's okay!"

"Roaches Will!"

"Baby, it's okay!"

Through her frenzy, she heard him somehow and began calming down. She took deep, full breaths as her arms and legs realized that she was out of danger. She looked around wildly, her eyes darting back and forth. No cockroaches were anywhere to be seen. Not on the table, which was standing up right and in a very unbroken state. There were no roaches on her husband devouring him alive either. More importantly, Freddy Krueger was nowhere to be seen. She moved to readjust her position and felt hot pain arch in her hand.

She brought her hand up to her face and saw a quarter-sized burn mark on her palm.

"Are you okay?" Will asked. A crowd of waiters and patrons had surrounded them, all of them looking at Lori as if she were an alien.

"What happened?" Lori whispered, beads of sweat pouring down her forehead. She looked and saw that spaghetti was all over her new dress, the white fabric stained and ruined by the sauce.

"You fell asleep," he explained.

Lori kept staring at her hand and realized something important had happened. She had made her body do what she had done in her dream. The smoldering flesh in the middle of her hand was proof. If Freddy could impose his will in nightmares and cause thing to happen in the real world, then maybe it worked both ways. Maybe she could control her own body while she was sleeping. She wasn't sure if she was on to anything helpful, but she knew if nothing else it was important.

She looked to her left and saw the candle lying there, extinguished and smoking. Lori looked to Will, tears in her eyes.

"Was it him?" Will asked, clearly already knowing the answer.

"It was him," Lori nodded.

Will took a deep breath and said exactly what she was thinking, "Fuck."

***

As long as it had taken Freddy to find Jason Voorhees, it was taking even longer to find this new asshole.

Freddy walked the open planes of the dream world, his eyes searching for the man he had seen in memories of Mary's past. Stiff, cold winds wailed past him as he moved forward, his brown fedora pulled down low over his eyes. He knew that time was short, and he could sense that Jason would be coming soon. Their fight at the lake had been brutal and fierce, and Krueger had not forgotten what Lori had so eloquently reminded him of.

Jason had in fact kicked his ass.

And Jason didn't forget those who crossed him.

But then Krueger had never planned on facing the freak in the real world. And that was the problem. He kept underestimating his pawns, he kept taking things for granted and in the end it cost him his victory over and over. As close as he had come to attaining his goals, to filling his needs, he had always fallen short because of some small damned detail he had over looked. Freddy snorted with disgust, remembering all the children he had worked so hard for over the years. How many had slipped away from him?

And what of the parents of Springwood? They had burned him alive like pagans at some fucking witch trial, all of them self-righteous and under God's protection to be certain. But then they hadn't counted on him coming back. They had underestimated him and he made them all pay, even that pompous prick of a sheriff. God, how he had hated that man. Whenever he felt bad, Freddy would just remember what it was like to impale that fucker and see look of surprise on his face.

They had tried to keep him from his children.

From his daughter.

From life.

But he had killed them all, every last one of them until the Elm Street children were no more.

Freddy never could have imagined how unfulfilling his quest ultimately had been. He needed new blood, fresh nightmares and most importantly, more children. He had to branch out from Springwood and burn his name into the subconscious of a broader world. He had to make them remember who he was and what he had become. He would spread like a plague and soon he would take the children of every small town and big city like a wolf does a lamb from an untended flock of scared sheep.

Jason had done well in stirring up their fear. But like the parents of Springwood had underestimated him, he had underestimated Jason. He had also underestimated that little bitch Lori. She had caused more trouble than she was worth, and had she just stayed out of his business, he could have sent Jason's ass back to Crystal Lake in a sling. He fumed and raged at her annoying interference, his bellows echoing through the corners of hell itself. Freddy would deal with her soon enough, of that he was sure. He had big plans for her, plans even bigger than what he had planned for Mary Stilfreeze.

Freddy paused, floating in the netherworld between sleep and awake. Before him a dark expanse, pitch black and seeming to have a life all it's own. There wasn't much of anything that scared Freddy Krueger, but he had been made to feel uneasy a few times in his life. He recalled being burned alive, he hesitated to remember his defeat at the hands of the "dream master" and of course, there was that shining moment when Jason shoved his own gloved hand through his torso.

As he stared into this open abyss, he felt uneasy. Freddy could feel the evil radiating off this life force in strong, frigid waves. Almost all of the minds around this one were possessed of their own warmth, their own unique properties. They appeared here as glowing lights, maybe stars even. But here in the middle of all that life was a black hole, an inescapable chasm. He laughed and knew he had found the one he was looking for.

'Thank you, Mary...' he thought.

Still, he felt uneasy.

Freddy reached out with his razor tipped finger and touched the surface of the black expanse, his blade slowly disappearing into it. It was as though he were dipping his finger into a thick, ichor oil slick. He felt a rush of adrenaline and was energized by the pure malice that resided inside. It was slumbering and quiet for the moment, either unaware or indifferent to his presence. The essence of this man pulsed through him, as it had with Jason when he had first resurrected him two years ago.

Freddy smiled, believing he had found his match against Jason.

"This time," Freddy chuckled, "When Jason has outlived his usefulness, I'll have someone to take out the trash..."

Freddy now realized that his mistake hadn't been in summoning Jason from hell. It had been thinking Jason would simply return to Crystal Lake and stay like a good little dog. Ultimately, Jason had been far too single-minded to do that. He was like a perpetual motion machine, an unstoppable juggernaut. If he was going to use Jason again as he had done before, he would have to make sure that the retard was disposed of. Freddy knew it would require a person of great physical power in the real world.

This man here, if he could even be called a man, would insure that.

They would destroy each other while Freddy basked in the gore and the glory.

***

His slumber had been long and peaceful, though he didn't really understand or have any use for the concept of peace. His whole life he had never known what the elusive word meant as he had never experienced it. He had no context for understanding the word or it's purpose. He remembered people telling him about it as a child, but as much as they said it was what he was looking for, he knew in his heart he wanted nothing to do with it. He found his calling and purpose from simply doing what he knew he must do.

That to him was as close to the concept of peace he would ever come.

He slowly opened his eyes and looked around.

He was awake.

A nurse, looking so much like the ones he killed before, was staring down at him, shocked. She turned to run, the heels of her shoes squeaking on the tile floor. He instinctively pistoned his large hand out and clasped his gritty fingers around her neck. He dug into her soft flesh and squeezed hard, her fists balled and hitting him as hard she could. He could feel her tendons and bones compressing and snapping in his iron grip. His muscles throbbed and flesh screamed, still scorched from fire, as he killed the attractive blonde nurse.

The nurse gurgled some desperate cry for help, but the scream rattled and died in her throat. Finally, her neck snapped and her head lolled to one side. Her bright blue eyes stared at him, as if though to question him. He could very well have imagined her asking, "Why, why me? What did I ever do to you?"

Even if she had asked, he never would have answered. It was not within him to speak anymore, to say anything to anyone. He simply was and accepted what drove him to take life.

He tossed the nurse to one side. Her body landed in a crumpled heap on the other side of the room. He slowly sat up on the long gurney. His movements were precise like a machine. He touched his face and realized the mask had been burned as much as his skin had been. The only profound emotional attachment he had ever known was for this particular mask. He could not explain it.

He would have to find another.

In the corner of the room, much to his surprise was a woman in a white hospital gown. Her long, brown hair was disheveled and frayed, her dark eyes sunken and tired. She stood defiantly in front of him, staring at him. He realized he could see through her body to the wall beyond. She seemed to glow with a strange, internal light.

She raised one hand and pointed to the dark corner of the room.

"Look, Michael," his dead sister Laurie Strode said.

Michael turned his head and saw his other sister, Judith, sitting at her dresser. She was topless as she had been the night he had embraced his destiny. Her perky breasts hung freely and swayed with each stroke of her arm as she brushed her long hair. Michael was filled with unholy rage as he watched her. He had never understood why he hated her so much. Maybe it was what he had seen her doing with her boyfriend just before, or maybe it was just that the forces that possessed him didn't like her. Either way, her very presence infuriated him. It infuriated him almost as much as his other sister's presence, standing there and talking to him despite the fact he had killed her.

He had killed them both.

He had seen them both die.

Michael stood up and searched for his knife. It was nowhere to be seen, so he settled for the large saw lying on the cart next to him. He gripped its rubber handle and turned to Judith. If she weren't yet dead, then he would kill her now.

"Michael," Laurie called to him, her ghostly face kind and yet hiding some deep secret.

He stopped, giving a sideways glance to his dead sister.

"It's not over yet," she whispered, her voice filled with amusement, "You failed."

Michael looked at her questioningly, the jagged saw blade gleaming in the blue light of the room. Michael now remembered where he was, and that he was in a morgue. They had thought he was dead and brought him here after he had killed the ones in his house. Michael remembered the fire, much like the fire so long ago that had burned him and the doctor.

He hated the doctor as much as he hated his sisters.

He raised his hand again to his mask, feeling the heat-warped rubber. His skin ached from being charred, flaking away and falling like ash.

"It's time, Michael," Laurie encouraged him, "It's time to finish..."

Next to Judith, he saw a man emerge from the shadows.

At first, Michael thought it was the doctor. The man looked just like him. He felt fury igniting in his soul as he watched the man caress Judith's bare shoulders. He caressed her the way her boyfriend had that night so long ago. And Judith seemed to enjoy it as she pulled the bald man's hands down to her breasts and urged him to massage her.

Judith stood up and pulled her panties down, revealing her neatly trimmed sex. The man smiled lustily and laid her naked body back into a flat position on the bed opposite the dresser. He lowered his face to her pussy and began licking. She was covered in a light film of sweat, her hourglass figure gleaming in the harsh blue light of the morgue. She ran her hands through her dark hair as the man slipped off his coat and flicked her clit with his tongue. He was suckling on her, his fingers sliding in and out of her slowly. She grasped her breasts and massaged them, her mouth open in an otherworldly ecstasy as she relished his tongue.