Dreams of Destiny Pt. 06-11

That last thought galvanized her. She wished her dead companion a silent bon chance and headed in the direction she thought lead to the chamber exit.

The man watched as Destiny pulled herself together and stood up. He had time to slink into the even deeper shadows. Destiny walked past without even a glance in his direction. He could have reached out, grabbed her long pony tail and pulled her to him but he restrained himself. No, he thought, I want this game to go on for a while

.

As Destiny moved, a sudden confidence over took her. Her feet seemed to be leading her by instinct. Or perhaps she had traveled this road before. It wasn't that the House of Horrors was familiar, but the pattern was.

Destiny froze as she heard soft, sinister laughter in the distance behind her. OH Christ, he's still in here, she thought in a panic. He's toying with me. "Leave me alone you mother fucker!" she yelled back at him. She started to run.

Her feet seemed to know the lay of the land. At first the passage wound around like a maze in a garden she might have memorized long ago or in some forgotten dream. Then it wound downwards, and twisted as if through a secret passage, in a far off hillside. She seemed to travel for miles, but that wasn't possible. She ran as if she was in a trance.

Unknowingly, unthinkingly, she ran, in a state that was half awake, half asleep. Her terror was like a wild animal clawing her heart. On and on she ran. Was this really happening or was she in the grip of an interlude of a dream from hell?

Finally, finally, after what seemed to be hours she started traveling back upwards. She came to a wooden door which was in the ceiling at the end of the passage. There was s small rickety ladder. Up she climbed. There was no lock on the door., just a rusty wooden handle. She turned the handled and pulled. Dirt and debris poured down upon her from overhead, almost knocking her off the ladder. covering the outside of what was, essentially, a bulkhead door. She got dirt in her eyes and was filthy by the time she cleared a passage was but she made it. She pulled herself through the door and was free!

Outside it was a warm, humid night. There were fireflies and the moon had apparently been up for hours, but it was dark where she was. She tried to read the face of her watch without success. I'm trading this in for a utilitarian watch with a face that lights up first thing tomorrow she promised herself. She looked around for a minute and tried to get her bearings. She was in some kind of wooded area. She listened. Frogs. The occasional owl, and yes, cars and a train in the distance.

Where the hell am I? she wondered. I feel like I've been walking for hours. Think, girl, she chided herself. What was that passageway? It obviously wasn't all house of horrors, she thought. Maybe it was some kind of maintenance tunnel for the amusement park.

Yes. That makes sense. So I'm probably at the far side of the park from where I came in. Let's see. I drove south to get here and turned right into the parking lot. That would mean the entrance faces east, towards the ocean. I have no idea what direction I walked in that tunnel.

Destiny silently cursed the gene which caused her to lose her sense of direction the minute she was in an enclosed environment. Nathan would love to see me like this she thought somewhat unfairly. He thinks women are constitutionally unable to make their way out of paper bags. According to him that's why we're always asking for directions.

What direction should I walk in to get help, she asked herself helplessly, west or east?. She looked at the sky and spotted Polaris ahead of her, grateful for the summer evenings she had spent with her father watching the sky while he pointed out the stars and made up stories to go with the various constellations. That had been when she was very young.

So the cars were to the east towards the ocean, she figured. Good she thought that's where I'll head. Maybe my luck will improve and I'll be able to catch a ride with a normal person and not some homicidal maniac. She shuddered, and looked quickly around her, hoping the man from the House of Horrors was long gone.

Destiny suddenly realized she couldn't go on without a pit stop. God, for a penis, she thought miserably. Not for sex, just for outside adventures.

She looked around again, making doubly sure she wasn't being watched. Then she did what she had to do praying silently that she wasn't squatting over a poison ivy plant. She re-fastened the buckles of her jump suit, looked up at the sky again for direction, and headed out through the woods.

It was pretty rough going. The vegetation was thick and the ground, uneven. But she made good time once she found her pace. She was surprised by how quickly she reached the road. It was not so dark outside of the woods, The stars were shining and the moon was out. She walked over to the nearest street light. She tried again to look at her watch. Eleven fifteen. I entered the House of Horrors at about 8:45. So I was in there for two and a half hours. And I was running most of the time. Shit. I must be miles away from the Fair View Park. What on earth was that tunnel? she wondered. And which way should I head?.

Destiny looked around again. She saw a lot of lights not too far off to her left down the road so she decided that was where she wanted to go and she trudged off. The scenery looked familiar and she realized that she was only about a half mile from the entrance of Fair View Park.

This doesn't make any sense, she thought. Where was I during those two hours I was running? But I've got to get back to the park. I have to tell someone about the murder. They're going to think I'm crazy, running around the country side for two hours before reporting a murder. Oh God, she thought desperately, what if they think I was part of it? Or that I helped the killer get away to save myself.

Destiny had a sudden urge to turn around and walk in the other direction. It can't be too far to the nearest town. I have my Master Card. I could find a motel for the night, and get some sleep and slink back to the Best Western in the morning. I could drive off like nothing ever happened she thought.

Coward! A woman is dead in that park. And somehow she died because of me. The son of a bitch knew my name. He acted like we were on intimate terms. He was playing with me. It was a game. He enjoyed it. Maybe he even got sexual pleasure out of it she realized. On account of me. The thought made her queasy, Who in God's name was he? Was there something familiar in his voice, his insinuating laugh. She thought there was, but couldn't make a clear connection.

I have to go back. Destiny decided, it doesn't matter what they think. My fingerprints aren't on the body although the poor woman's blood is all over my hands. She grew dizzy for a second remembering the terrible scene. The scarlet blood all over the red head's halter top reminded her of the vision she had seen when she was dressing that afternoon. Red blood all over a white halter top. Its as if I knew something awful was going to happen. And now I have blood on my hands. What are the police going to think?. It doesn't matter. I'll see my away clear of this somehow. Destiny steeled herself for what she knew would be a difficult night.

Then she realized something. She still had her camera. Maybe she had the bastard on film. She had taken picture after picture when she first entered the chamber of horrors. Maybe she could be of good use to the police. The thought cheered her up and firmed her resolve. Destiny turned towards the park and began walking.

Chapter VII.

Officer John Rodgers of the West Palm Beach police force opened his eyes his way down the first hill of the Thunder Bolt to an early evening, summer sky. He was screaming, and grinning like a kid. The rushing twist of senses was much more intense than what he normally felt during a coaster ride. And as coasters go these days, John thought, the Thunder Bolt is tame.

Suddenly John felt dizzy and disoriented. He didn't remember getting on the roller coaster at all. It was as if he had awakened from a dream sitting in the back seat of the ride. What had he been dreaming? he wondered anxiously. The dream was slipping away from him and he felt like he was losing something important.

Something about a conversation with a beautiful woman n a restaurant in a far away city. Who was the woman? Not even a glimmer of a face remained with him. The moment passed. He enjoyed the rest of the ride without giving the incident another thought.

It was getting close to closing time, John realized as he pulled himself out of the car. He wasn't quite ready to pack it in and find a hotel. He knew this was the last chance he would have to play like a child in Fair View Park.

John wasn't sure why he had given in to his urge to come to the park this last time. He had seen the notice about its closing in the paper Friday night and decided to drive over for an evening of what he considered to be purely adolescent fun.

What should I do next? He decided to grab a brew to drink as he pondered. Couldn't drink in here when I was a boy, he realized. But I'll bet this is how they've made ends met over the last few years what with competition to intense among theme parks in the south. Boy are we ever a society addicted to fun and thrills? he thought. We are raising a generation of adrenaline junkies. But I get enough adrenaline on the job.

John walked over to a picnic table and sat down sideways, stretching his long legs out comfortably. He was a tall man, and powerfully built. He was twenty six years old and had been a deputy on the West Palm Beach police force for three years. He was ambitious. He planned to make homicide detective by age twenty eight. John had always planned to be a homicide detective. He had never wondered the origin of the ambition. It felt right and he went after it relentlessly.

As John settled down to savor his beer, he noticed a pretty, pert red head walk, laughing, into the House of Horrors with a slightly built man dressed in black. Something about the man struck a familiar note with John. He felt the hairs rise along the back of his neck. I wonder who that is, he thought, unsettled. No one I know, he decided.

John was wearing blue tonight. He had on blue jeans and a light blue tee shirt. And his sapphire eyes sparkled in the dusk. His hair was wavy and black. It was longer than it should, technically, have been for work. But dress regulations were a little slack in West Palm Beach and no one minded that his hair fell a little below his collar. John held his handsome face with an unconsciously arrogant tilt. The girls in high school had always thought of him as conceited, until they got to know him. His nose was crooked, having been broken in a childhood fist fight with the son of a bitch he had been told was his half-brother. Not likely, John had thought at the time, the sneaky little bastard looked nothing like me or my father.

John's mouth was wide and smiled easily, but he looked mean when he was crossed. He knew how to use his body both at work and at play. I haven't had much play lately, John thought ruefully. Not since I sent Lizzy packing.

They had had a good thing going, he reminisced, sadly. Why did she have to mess things up? He thought back about the events that had led to their break up three weeks ago.

Life had been so smooth for so long. He remembered as he sipped his beer in the fading sunlight. Okay, maybe Lizzy wasn't much help financially, trying so hard to make a living singing at clubs and doing occasional commercials for local shops in West Palm Beach. That had been okay with John. He hadn't minded carrying more of the financial load the Lizzy. It was the way things were supposed to work.

But then Lizzy had hit age twenty five and decided life was passing her by. Whereas two years earlier she had loved West Palm Beach, recently she had become convinced that her great talent would never be discovered there. And when she looked at John she no longer saw the dashing young police officer she had fallen for in her senior year of college.

Lizzy had decided John was holding her back. She began to weasel her way into the Palm Beach elite set. He didn't fit in. He didn't want to fit in. He'd rather bust their asses for smoking pot and blowing snow than make polite conversation with them at parties. John and Lizzy had gotten into a rotten fight at the last party they went to together. That was the closest he'd ever come to punching a woman.

Lizzy had gotten high and drunk too much champagne at the party. The host, Mr. Hollywood John thought with a snort of derision, was a minor movie actor who had moved in on Lizzy like a shark when she was taking an unsteady walk in the garden. John had unobtrusively followed Lizzy out to be sure she was okay.

When John approached the pair, the actor was filling Liz's head full of promises of movie videos and bit parts which he said could lead to better things if she was friendly. The guy had his hand on Liz's ass and was about to kiss her when John stepped in.

John had stonily told Lizzy to go inside and get her purse. They were leaving. The host objected in a fake English accent. John had simply said "fuck off friend, unless you want me to call my colleagues on the West Palm Beach Police Force and have them check this party out for illegal narcotics. Lizzy, who had ignored John's order to go inside gave him a hard shove towards the fountain. He tripped and almost went sprawling. You don't run my life John Rodgers," she'd cried furiously. He stood up. She rushed at him and slapped at his face with both hands. He'd grabbed both of her hands and held tight while she spewed invective at him.

The Liz's actor had come running up as if to protect Lizzy. John released her into the guy's arms with a hard push. "Here, you want her, you got her," he shouted angrily. What he'd really wanted to do was dump both of them into the fountain, trash the place and then call in a disturbance on 911.

John had barely been able to control his temper. That had shaken him to his roots. He knew he was very strong and physically able. He could have done a lot of damage that night if he had let his emotions run unchecked. He knew many cops ended up in physically abusive relationships and had always prided himself for his control.

John had driven home alone, in his little MGB, too angry to trust himself with Lizzy. Fuck her he thought, with heat, she can get a ride from Mr. Hollywood if she wants to come home. Or she can walk for all I care. He drove much too fast, getting satisfaction from the strict control he maintained over the vehicle. Angrily he thought, she's probably giving Mr. Hollywood the ride, not the other was around

He got home about two a.m. and spent the rest of the night stewing and think hard thoughts..

As he expected. Lizzy had come back the next afternoon, hung over and contrite. She wanted to start again she said. She said it was all her fault. But John knew the relationship with Lizzy was over. It had been a lot more fragile than he had known. At least we aren't married. John had thought. And no kids will suffer from the breakup..

John had been cruel, but he knew he had to be. If he didn't make her mad she'd end up sobbing and he'd end up comforting her. Then they'd probably end up back in bed which was where John knew he was vulnerable. They'd end up putting a band aid on the relationship and nothing would have been accomplished.

"Why do you want to come back? Did your actor friend renege on his promises after he gave you the fucking you deserved?" he asked meanly as he lounged in his bathrobe on his brown leather sofa. He'd done a lot of thinking since he got home from the party, and had gotten little sleep.

"You should be glad to move on, sugar, he told her, I'm a dumb cop who's holding you back. You want to fly? Go fly. Be my guest. But be careful honey, he cautioned, too much blow and smoke will age that pretty package right fast. And don't give yourself away too cheaply. I don't want to see you on a slab in the morgue dressed like a street walker.

She had flown into him then, all nails and teeth. "You bastard," she yelled, "you're comparing me to some drug crazed little hooker you arrest on Saturday night to watch turned loose on Monday morning. I'm bigger than that, John Rodgers. You know I am" She scratched his face before he was able to grab hold of both hands.

"I know you are Lizzy," he said, trying to talk some sense into the girl. " So why don't you act like it. Get it together and do something real with your life. Maybe you are right, I've been thinking," he continued as she struggled to free her hands. Maybe I have been holding you back, making it too easy for you. She kicked him in the shin, hard. She was crying now. "Ouch, God damn it! he swore. Why bother to struggle if dinner is already paid for? You have talent Lizzy. Go out and make something of it. But don't be cheap. And don't kill yourself in the process..

Lizzy stopped fighting him. She slumped down onto the carpet with her hands over her face, sobbing. He sat down beside her, started to reach out to pull her into his arms and paused. He dropped his arms. Instead he took his right hand and placed his fingertips under her chin. He pulled her face up so she was looking him in the eye.

"Lizzy, he said sadly, "I didn't want us to end and I certainly didn't see this coming, But I think was should call it a day between us."

"Joust because of last night?" Lizzy asked, tears falling faster now.

"No, baby. Well, yes and no.

John, I'm so sorry about what I did she said in a rush. all contrition. But I just got so mad at you. You always said you'd help me with my ambitions and be proud if I made it big. And then, there was Stephen making all those promises, really looking at me for the first time, and you acted like a son of a bitch. I've always known you had a jealous streak but I never thought you'd interfere if someone who could do my career some good showed me professional interest."

"Sugar, the only interest that creep was showing you was sticking up between his legs. His type are a dime a dozen around here. You know that. This age twenty five shit has got you addled. Or maybe it was something in the punch. You used to be smarter than you acted last night. He just wanted to fuck you baby."

"Oh, Fuck you, John, Lizzy said ready to start the fight anew. She wiped at her tears angrily. He'll come through for me. He has four other singers. He made a promise."

"So he did fuck you last night, John said, stung. He'd known it but hadn't really wanted to hear it. Was it worth, baby? What did he promise you? Did you get it in writing? Or did he boot your sweet little ass out the door the minute he woke up with a limp cock? Is that why you came back here? You thought the grass was greener but it turned out to be covered with dog shit?

"Oh John, grow up, for Christ's sake," she snapped. "Yes, I slept with him. What was I supposed to do?. You drove off like a goddamn maniac in that crappie little car of yours. How was I supposed to get home? Walk? Beg a ride and have everyone laugh at me?