A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 04

Sean caressed her shoulders with his fingertips and watched her kneel down and tilt his dick towards her full lips. The first touch of her tongue on his dick caused him to tremble. She slathered her tongue around the large, dark head of his cock. The sweet salty taste of precum energized her tongue as she lapped up the thick bubble forming at the small opening of his head.

"Keep this up and I'll blow early," he whispered as he ran his hands through her hair.

"That's the point, lover," she smiled and licked the length of his long shaft. Sean noticed that her hardened nipples were scraping against his thighs in maddening tease. She added, "That's why they call it a 'quickie'."

Tessa sucked his cock in as far as she could and began bobbing her head back and forth. Sean pulled gently at her hair as she licked and massaged him in her mouth. Her hands worked his heavy balls and shaft in a sensual pace as she mouth-fucked the first four to five inches of his cock. Tessa relaxed her throat and pushed further down until the large knob of his cock pressed against the back of her throat. Tessa released a deep lusty moan and squeezed her thighs together.

"Damn, woman," Sean groaned as Tessa pulled her lips slowly from his cock.

His eyes began to adjust to the dark. In the dim light filtering in under the door, he could see a long rope of his precum stretched from his dick to her tongue. She then resumed her task at hand and ravaged his penis feverishly, her head jerking back and forth. Tessa could feel his dick hardening beyond what it already was, which was impressive to say the least. She knew he wouldn't be able to hold back much longer and only intensified her oral stimulation. The veins under the skin of his shaft were throbbing and bulging out now as he began to lose the battle against the orgasm.

"Fuck!" he breathed and hot semen rocketed across her face and neck. It fell to her full breasts in a long ropy string as he pumped his jizz out in powerful spurts. Sean gritted his teeth and grabbed onto the nearby aluminum shelf for support as his penis overloaded his brain. Tessa licked and lapped at his fluids, polishing off his cock to a shiny finish. She sucked his slowly deflating member into her mouth again and released it with a springy slurp.

"Your turn," Sean huffed and pulled her to him as his cum slid between their naked bodies.

***

Sheriff Williams did a double take as he looked up and saw two ghosts from the past in his doorway.

One of the ghosts was a woman, looking as pretty and troubled as she had seemed on the day she left town two years ago. She was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt that read "SPRINGWOOD HIGH." Her thick blonde hair was longer now, and fell over her shoulders in full waves. But her eyes still reserved that sharp intelligence and grit he knew was both a credit and a curse for her.

Holding her hand was a tall handsome man, no longer the boy Williams remembered. His face was broad and filled with scrutiny. The eyes were filled with anger and resentment, a special kind of righteous indignation that was reserved only for the Sheriff himself, and maybe one other man. He wanted to look away from him, but knew better. After all, it was Williams who had helped seal this young man's fate to Westin Hills years ago. If he were to justify it then, he would have to stand by his decision now.

"Sheriff," Will Rollins nodded to him politely.

"Rollins," the sheriff said quietly and then looked at his companion and shook his head, "Lori."

"It's been a long time," Lori said. It had been a long time. The last time she had seen the sheriff was after she and Will returned from Crystal Lake. It was all a blur for her now, from the moment she watched the dream killer's head splash into the lake to the moment she and Will ran into the police station. Williams had almost locked them up and sent them packing to Westin Hills that night. If the sheriff had known they'd come back here again, he would have.

"Why are you here?" he asked bluntly.

"We came for the memorial service," Will replied, standing firm and straight against the sheriff. Will and the sheriff didn't care much for each other. Their mutual distaste was about as strong as the bitterness between Will and Lori's father. It was Sheriff Williams and Dr. Campbell who had committed Will to Westin Hills after he saw Freddy Krueger. Those two men had stolen years of Will's life, and it was no surprise that bad blood still ran between the three men. It was so bad in fact that Lori's father almost didn't come to their wedding, and it was only Lori's insistence that he be there that made both men put aside their differences.

"Memorial? Nobody in this town scheduled a memorial service," Williams said gruffly, "What a shitty idea."

"It's shitty to honor the dead?" Will asked.

"No," Williams eyed him, "It's a shitty way to open this town up for more bloodshed. You of all people know we have a policy against the past."

"I see," Will shrugged and closed the door behind him, "So how many kids have you locked up this time?"

"I don't understand," Lori frowned, "We received a call a couple days back that-"

"Whoever called you was pulling your damn leg, Lori."

"Somebody did call," Will insisted.

Sheriff Williams was ready to crack.

It was hard enough to protect a normal town as it was in this day and age. Society was only getting worse for the wear, and people were disregarding the law left and right. But in Springwood, when you have killers who attack children in their sleep and there's not a goddam thing you can do about it, you have to think outside the box. Williams, his officers and the Westin Hills staff would most likely be judged before the Throne one day for what they had done, but in his mind their "preventative medicine" policies were the lesser of two evils.

He said, "Now you listen here, you little asswipe. I have more dead kids in one night than I have had in the last two years. This shit is fallout from when you and your friend Mark broke out of Westin Hills and spread Krueger's name all over town."

"That's not true," Will said.

"Isn't it?" the sheriff shot back, "Funny how you two show up just when all this shit starts busting loose again."

"We were invited!" Will fumed, "We wouldn't have come back otherwise."

"You weren't sent back to Westin Hills on the condition you left town, kept your mouth shut and never came back," the sheriff reminded him, "And now here you are. Why am I surprised?"

"Freddy would have found a way back no matter what," Lori stepped in.

"I don't give a good goddam!" Williams shouted.

His voice caused them both to step back a little towards the door. Lori knew now that there wouldn't be much help from the Springwood Police Department. Sheriff Williams drove this point home by pointing at them with his stogie, his eyes blazing as he said, "You think I like putting kids in Westin Hills? You think your father liked it, Lori? I have nightmares about all the poor sons of bitches still up there in comas because of Hypnocil overdoses. But I'd rather live with that then clean up two dozen dead high school seniors like I did last night."

"Sheriff, I'm sorry about those kids," Lori crossed her arms, somehow cold in her sweater and jeans, "But you have to know that covering Krueger up isn't going to work anymore. I saw local and state news crews at the roadblocks on the way over here. This is about to bust wide open, and unless we do something, Krueger will spread like a plague! It won't just be Springwood anymore."

"Containment," Williams stood up from his desk, "We've got this town locked down tight and we're going to sweep it until we find his partners."

"Partners?" Will asked, his dark features growing even darker, "Who?"

The Sheriff regarded Will coolly, "Four of my best deputies were killed last night by a large man in a hockey mask. Two of them got away, but said that the suspect was then attacked by another man in a mask and apparently killed."

"Another masked man?" Will cocked his brow.

"It's Jason," Lori looked at her husband, "He came back."

"He knows Freddy is here," Will said, "He's going to try and find him."

"Look," the sheriff pushed past them and opened the door, "I know you two enjoy this whole Scooby Doo routine, but you need to leave now."

"But Jason-"

The Sheriff glared at them and silenced them with a look. He held the door to his office open and said, "When this is done, the press will think Jason Voorhees came through here again and went crazy. He's a fucking national icon, and people will blame him faster than anyone else. We shoot him and kill him and we have the one responsible. Krueger's name never has to be mentioned. It's not a great plan, it's not a perfect plan but it's the only fucking one I have. No you two get the hell out of here before I commit your asses to Westin Hills-"

Sheriff Williams eyed Will and added, "-again."

"You cannot kill Jason Voorhees," a calm voice said from beside the Sheriff, just out of sight. They all turned and saw Dr. Loomis standing there, his hands in his pockets and looking both frightened and thoughtful, "Nor can you really kill the man who attacked him."

The Sheriff rolled his eyes, "You're still here?"

Lori smiled, eyes wide with surprise and somehow feeling safer as she looked at her psychologist. She said, "Dr. Loomis, what are you doing here?"

"I'm afraid we're all victims of very clever trap," the doctor said, "it's not a coincidence that we're all here now, in this town at this very moment.

"What?" Williams looked at him.

"Freddy Krueger?" Will asked glumly.

Loomis nodded. "Freddy Krueger."

***

Tessa had bent forward and grasped one of the support beams in the closest for leverage when the door suddenly unlocked and opened, exposing her and Sean to the harsh lighting of the basement hallway. Don Frank stood there, his eyes wide and cheeks turning red as he looked at them. Sean was all but naked while Tessa had been bold and decided to strip nude for their impromptu quickie. Sean smiled awkwardly, his cock firmly in hand and pressed against Tessa's sex. Tessa squinted, her eyes trying to adjust to Don's mortified face.

"Hey guys," Don looked away and turned his back to them. He cleared his throat and said, "Ah, we have a bit of a situation upstairs. You mind?"

"No problem," Sean said, still frozen in place and thoroughly embarrassed.

Tessa nodded, "Yeah, no problem."

There was a long moment of silence.

"Cool," Don nodded and shut the door, leaving them in darkness once more.

Tessa turned on the light and they dressed quietly, each of them consumed by their own thoughts. Both of them were beyond horny now, and Sean could sense Tessa's frustration like distortions from a large fire. He had gotten off a great orgasm, and now she would have to wait for hers. He looked to her as she buttoned up her shirt and adjusted her belt.

"When this is over," Sean whispered in her ear, "I'll make you cum so hard your toes will go numb."

"When this is over," she corrected him, "We're going to install a lock on the inside of the door."

They emerged from the utility closet a few minutes later to find Don standing at the end of the hall, still blushing and yet looking more amused now than anything. Tessa smiled politely as she walked past him and up the stairs. She held her head high and then paused, turned to him and said, "Not a word."

"My lips are sealed," Don nodded made a lock-and-key motion at the corner of his mouth.

"Good," she slugged him on the shoulder in a friendly gesture that said she loved him but that she wouldn't hesitate to give him a new asshole if he shared the gossip. Don watched her walk up the stairs back to the holding cells and then added, "Nice tattoo, Theresa."

Tessa stopped at the top of the stairs and without looking back said, "Few men know of my Scorpio tattoo Don..."

"And so it shall remain secret," he promised, the image of the tattoo on her right buttock burned into his memory forever. Tessa left and the door slammed shut behind her with a loud echo.

Sean stood by Don and said quietly, "It's her zodiac sign."

"Yes it is," Don agreed.

"She, uh, tattooed it on her ass."

"Looks good."

"Yes it does." Sean said.

They shared a moment of both apologetic embarrassment and deep respect for the blatant defiance of regulations on the issue of sex between officers Sean and Tessa had just displayed. Don smiled broadly at him, his eyes alive with a humor Sean hadn't seen since last night. The grin was infectious and Sean felt himself smiling despite his mood. Don closed his eyes and nodded his head in unabashed approval as Sean waved him off dismissively.

"Dude," Don said.

"I know."

"If you ever got caught doing that shit..."

Sean shrugged, "I know."

They walked up the stairs and once they reached the top, but before Don pushed the door open to the squad room, he looked at Sean and motioned back towards the basement, "By the way, that was totally awesome."

Sean winked, "I know."

***

In the cell next to Mary, Mickey was in the middle of one fuck of a crazy dream.

He was standing beside the old highway in the middle of the night. The cornfields were lit up a pale blue as the ghostly full moon shined down. The night was quiet, calm and peaceful and yet filled with impending action. Something was about to happen. He could feel it.

He saw the headlights of the van birth from the darkness at the far end of the straight away before the curve. There was a moment of disorientation as he realized he was in two places at once. He was in the van with Nicole at the same time somehow, his hand in her bra and playing with her nipple as she jerked him off. And yet he was on the roadside too, standing there, waiting for the van.

He felt different, like he wasn't himself. He felt taller than before, and when he looked at his hands, they were large and scarred with a variety of different wounds. There was a small tattoo on his wrist that resembled a thorn, and in his other hand he wielded a long knife. It was one of those big kitchen knives he had seen his mother use to carve pumpkins on Halloween, the kind that slashers used in horror movies. He could also feel his face was covered in a mask.

He felt safe in the mask, like it was his second skin. It hid his true nature and yet also hinted at it as well. From his other viewpoint in the van (now sick from the disorientating sensation of seeing himself approach himself) he saw the mask. In his mind, he heard the tires squealing against the black top as the van began to lose control He caught a glimpse of his alien face as the vehicle began to crash. It was merciless; a ghostly faded white countenance that bore no capacity for a smile. The eyes were black and sunken behind the cutout holes of the mask, only a glimmering twinkle of intelligence flashing as the headlights glared down upon him.

From his silent vigil on the road, Mickey watched the van flip over and tumble down the old freeway in a silent replay. It was a sight he never should have seen, let alone even imagine but he was seeing it anyway. Metal crunched and accordioned together with plastic as safety glass exploded and showered the night in shining slices of death. A body, one of his classmates (though he could not be sure which), flew out of the ruined doors of the van. The body arched high into the air and then slammed into the cornfield.

He saw Nicole's head, her beautiful hair caught in the wind, come out of the shattering side rear window as weight and centrifugal forces smashed her to one side. Her hair fanned open for a moment as the hulk of the van upended and then descended. He wanted to cry out, to save her but could only watch as the van slammed down and her head disappeared beneath the wreckage.

The van began to skid sideways down the road, sparking and chewing up the blacktop, and he could see a wet trail of gore behind it. He looked and saw the remains of his girlfriend's head grind up against the pavement and fly out from underneath the moving wreck in ragged chunks. Nicole's head was being ground off like a piece of meat to a belt sander. He saw a clump of her scalp fly up, her hair trailing behind and then splat on the road.

What surprised Mickey the most, as he relived the accident as both victim and murderous observer, was that as the observer, he felt no remorse or panic. There was no revulsion at the sight of the carnage or the horror of the wreck. If anything, he felt satisfaction. It was a deep black satisfaction that was both cold and hot inside his stomach. He felt his grip tighten on the handle of his knife. Beneath the second skin, his face remained as impassive and uncaring as the mask itself.

He turned and began walking to the wreck as it stopped skidding. After a moment, the back door opened and clanked to the road. He saw himself fall out of the van and roll a few feet. He saw his other self realize what the trail of wetness was behind the van. He watched his other self stagger away and towards the front of the van. But then another man appeared from the wreckage, and Mickey believed it would be Mike the driver. Instead, it was someone he had never seen before in his life, and yet it was someone he thought he recognized.

"The one that got away," the stranger said and leapt at his other self. The man had blades on his fingertips and began hacking away. Blood spattered the over-turned roof of the van and the road as he watched himself be murdered. He continued to walk forward, watching this grisly scene unfold in the dreamscape of his mind. He saw the man with knifes plunge his hand into his stomach and then rip back. Mickey saw his own intestines fly haphazardly in the air, the fleshy pink tubes spraying gore and other matter across the pavement before plopping to the ground.

"It's time," the stranger stood straight up, silhouetted by the flames of the broken van, "You have to go now."

Mickey slowly realized this was not his dream.

He was in someone else's dream as the body that was not his moved him forward to the stranger. He felt himself raising the long kitchen knife into the air, ready for the kill. Inside this alien soul, he felt a fire burning despite the frigid glacier of his conscience. The fire was burning hotter as he meant to kill the bladed newcomer, and Mickey felt himself slowly understanding the reasons why.

"GO!" the man raged. Mickey could see the burnt face, horribly scarred and gnarled as he screamed. His hand came to bear violently and he bellowed, "Wake up!"

Mickey could feel the owner of this dream stir, as though he himself were waking up.

"Wake up!"

The man with the bladed fingers looked more like a demon now, his eyes yellow and feral. He raised his gloved hand and swiped at him with the knives. They hissed through the air and sliced the front of the blue coveralls he was wearing. Suddenly, Mickey felt himself tumbling away from the reality of the dream as he rocketed back to the real world, the world of awake. Before his eyes opened and his senses came back to him, he heard the demon laughing.

"Tell 'em Freddy sent ya!"

***

Michael Myers sat up suddenly.

The dream killer was still echoing in his mind, "Tell 'em Freddy sent ya!"

His backside was wet with morning dew. He knew that his body was cold and his arms ached. Not that it mattered to him. He himself was cold, colder than any one evening in Springwood could ever hope to be. He looked around and saw he had not been moved from his hiding spot. Thick bushes surrounded him and hid him from the streets and houses. This place reminded him of home.

He was aware of the wounds he had bore from the one that had fought him last night. Michael worked his fingers slowly for a moment as his muscles screamed. Michael considered the masked man for a moment. He knew that the masked man should be dead and that running the pipe through his body should have ended his life. And yet, the masked man had gotten up again.