A Dream within a Dream by Mike Nappa

Author:Mike Nappa [Nappa, Mike]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Suspense;Mystery Fiction;FIC042060;FIC030000;FIC031000
ISBN: 9781493423057
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2020-03-30T00:00:00+00:00

28

Dream

Atlanta, GA

“. . . needs them fah collateral fah that arms shipment. He’s gonna kill us.”

“We’ll get him to talk.”

They’re talking about me in the next room. With my arms and legs strapped to a chair, I can’t fidget. That usually helps me expend some of my nervous energy. I feel it building up inside me. “Any month that starts with a Sunday will have a Friday the thirteenth in it,” I mumble.

I try to distract myself by looking around the house. From what I gathered while they were talking in the car, this place is a vacation rental. It’s nice, all wood floors and molding. It’s also on a huge lot buried in trees. No one can hear anything that comes from this house.

“He ain’t said nothin’ but gibberish.”

“Let me rephrase. I’ll get him to talk.” Footsteps sound from around the corner.

I look over as the man with a mole on his cheek turns the corner, closely followed by the younger man with a baseball cap on. The younger man takes a drag from a cigarette pinched between his index finger and thumb.

“Ready to give us what we need?” the first man asks.

I turn my head away, facing forward.

“Asking nicely isn’t working. We’ll just have to move on to phase two.”

This man, especially with his accent, reminds me of Southie. “Richard the Lionheart only visited England twice during his reign and could only speak French.”

“Give me that,” the man with the mole says.

“Watchu gonna do, Johnny?” the younger man asks.

Johnny takes the burning cigarette and pushes it into the skin of my arm.

I yell out in pain.

The younger man laughs.

“That enough for you?” Johnny asks me. “Or do we need to get moah creative?”

I keep my mouth shut by literally biting the insides of my lips. I don’t want to tell them about the tattoo, about how it’s a map. I want Trudi and Samuel to find the artwork. Mr. Hayes said if I help Samuel, he’ll hide me, “fade” was what he called it. And I want to help Samuel and, especially, Trudi.

“Creative, it is. Good. I was always an inventive child. Drove my mothah nuts sometimes.” Johnny stands in front of me and leans down. A couple of inches from my face, he clicks a lighter and relights the cigarette. “Like the smell of Marlboros?” he asks.

All I can do is stare at the red embers at the end of the cigarette.

He grabs me by the chin and slowly moves the embers closer. I try to struggle, try to shake my head free.

The younger man stands behind me and forces my head still.

The cigarette moves closer. The smell makes me feel sick.

It’s so close I can barely see it. He holds it under my nose, and it’s so hot I can smell my nose hairs burning. And then the inside of my nose is burning.

I yell out. I scream.

I keep screaming.

He keeps pushing the cigarette farther up until I feel like my brain is catching on fire.

I feel tears running down my cheeks.

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