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Entry tags:
"Dr Nightmare"
"Dr Nightmare"
A Trom Girl Mystery
4/29-4/30/2006
I.
When the doorbell rang, Ashley Whitaker squeaked with delight and bounced across the hall quick as any squirrel to the front door. The little blonde was immaculate in all white - boots, snug stretch pants and a long-sleeved pullover with a rolled collar. She swung her head to flip the shining platinum hair aside and crooned into the intercom, "Gooood Morning!"
Standing well behind her, Megan Salenger scowled grim as an executioner. She was as pretty as Ashley but in her own inquisitive, foxlike way. The Trom Girl was wearing an oil-stained beige jumpsuit over her civilian clothing, holding in one hand a part of the CORBY's remote guidance system she had been upgrading. In her other hand was a handmade diagnostic tool most Human techs could not have figured out.
"Hi there, Unicorn," came a familiar male voice through the speaker. "I'm here to see Megan."
"I am NOT here!" Megan called out sharply, tapping the diagnotistic tool against her hip.
"He heard you, silly," Unicorn laughed. She pressed the button that unlocked the street door to admit visitors into the vestibule where they could be IDed.
"Tell him I am occupied and cannot be interrupted," said Megan, taking one half-hearted step back toward the stairs.
"She's not doing anything special, Archie. Come on in!" The blonde checked the scanner results on the monitor screen at eye level, automatically verifying that the visitor had been identified and was not carrying any weapons. This only took a few seconds. She swung open the inner door and sang, "Hiiiii, Archie! Good to see you."
Looming up over both women, who only stood five feet one and five feet three respectively, Archie McAllister was a massive bearlike form in work boots, worn jeans and a red checked flannel shirt. As usual, he had not shaved in a few days and needed a haircut as well. In that massive, weathered face, his gentle blue eyes seemed incongruous.
"Too cute for words," Unicorn told him as she shoved him toward where Megan had not moved.
"Hi, honey," Archie said to Megan. "Are you still mad at me?"
"I think you should know," the Trom Girl answered icily.
"How about telling me what I did wrong? Or what I said wrong?" he went on. "I can't apologize if I don't know what for."
Megan brushed her shock of untidy black hair with one hand, gave him a stony stare and said, "If you think about it, you'll know what you did...."
"Oh for the love of God!" Unicorn interrupted. She snatched the electronic parts from Megan's hands and dropped them on one of the bookcases that lined the walls, then yanked down the zipper of Megan's jumpsuit. Underneath, Megan was wearing a dark green T-shirt and black slacks. Before the startled Trom Girl could react or resist, Ashley was pulling the jumpsuit off her.
"Lift your leg!" Unicorn yelled as she worked the jumpsuit cuff over Megan's sneaker. "Now the other one. All right!" Not all that gently, the blonde pushed her teammate by the shoulders almost into Archie's arms. "Better. Lots better."
The inner door was still open, and Unicorn seized both Archie and Megan by an arm each, propelling them into the vestibule. "It is a gorgeous Spring day outside. You two need to go for a walk for a while." As she closed the inner door, Unicorn saw Megan's perplexed stare and snapped, "You are getting a little TOO Human, Trom Girl! Stop torturing him."
Left in the tiny vestibule, just big enough for the two of them to stand without being on top of each other, Megan and Archie both blinked uncertainly. "I never know how to deal with her," Megan said at last. "Ashley seems to break the rules of social interaction as she pleases."
Archie opened the outer door to East 38th Street. "Well, let's go for a walk anyway. I wanted to tell you about some strange things going on in a town in Massachusets. Did you hear about this Dr Nightmare stuff?"
"Dr Nightmare? No." Megan hesitated for the barest instant, then stepped out onto the sidewalk after him. He started walking north and she followed. It was a warm sunny day in late March, with the city coming back to life after a vicious winter. She didn't even feel she needed a windbreaker. "Who is Dr Nightmare?"
"See, no one knows," Archie said as he walked her up towards Times Square. "It's in a town called Lindenhurst. Here's what I heard. Maybe a month ago, someone started putting up these flyers of a weird staring face with the words DR NIGHTMARE at the bottom. All over town, glued up on fences and walls and utility poles. No one knew what it meant." He paused amidst a cluster of pedestrians at the corner as they waited for the CROSS light.
"Hmmm. One might suspect a new album from a musical group? Or an independent film trying to stir up publicity?" Megan seemed to have forgotten for the moment she was angry with Archie over something.
"Yeah. Sounds like good explanations. But since the posters went up, there has been a dozen crimes in a quiet town. Burglaries with the homeowners asleep in the house, mostly, but one man murdered in his bed and nothing taken. And one woman woke up to find an intruder trying to rape her. Her dog, a big German Shepherd, came tearing in and chased the man away after quite a struggle."
The Trom Girl had that distant look in her eyes that meant she was turning over a dozen ideas at once. "What did this intruder look like?"
"Tall and thin, dressed all in black. He had long stringy black hair and a thin face with staring dark eyes. He looked in fact just like the face on the posters." Archie stopped in front of a pizza place. "I could stand a meatball sub, maybe some curly fries."
Wrapped in thought, Megan barely seemed to notice they were going in the pizza joint. "Yes. I am hungry too. I will have the same. It is strange that a criminal would post his own face all over public places."
Archie stepped up to the counter and ordered. "Yeah, it's weird. I read about this in the paper and thought, this is a perfect 'Trom Girl Mystery.'"
Squeezing his arm, Megan looked up into his face and finally smiled. "It is! I'm interested. Oh, meatball subs! Did we order these?" And she dug in ravenously.
II.
Taking out her Link as they finished up, the Trom Girl found a picture of the Dr Nightmare posters someone had posted online. The man looked like a victim of starvation, with sunken cheeks and deepset eyes, hair that was straggly and had not been washed for some time. The prominent nose added to a general resemblance to a vulture. Written across the bottom of the poster in cursive script was DR NIGHTMARE with no explanation.
Looking over her shoulder, Archie scoffed. "He doesn't seem like he makes a good first impression. Ever seen him before?"
"No. I am certain I have not." She began to clip the Link back to her belt, then stopped. "Archie, I want to investigate this phenomenon. It has a strong feeling of being Midnight War. First, we must get you a day off from the Harley shop."
"You call the boss," Archie said. "Ever since you modified the hydraulics at the shop and installed that free diagnostic computer, he has worshipped you. Giving me a day off now and then is not a problem for him."
Using the Link again, Megan patched into the regular phone system and called HARLEY HAVEN. The boss answered and, from what Archie could overhear, greeted Megan with hearty praise. Archie smiled ruefully. If only Lou was as nice to his employees...!
"Yes, that sounds like a fuel line blockage. Yes. The 1948 Indian that I saw last time can be repaired but it will require dissambly of the brake system. What? So the parts have more room to move. Yes, I will come by soon." She listened for a few more seconds. "Now, I want to take Archie with me to investigate some crimes. At least for tomorrow. Good. Thank you, Lou. I will be at the shop soon." She hung up and gave Archie a pereplexed stare. "He is too effusive, don't you think?"
Archie shrugged and picked up their plates to bring them back to the counter. "You have saved him a fortune, honey. You know more about bikes than guys who have been working on them all their lives."
"Internal combustion technology," she said, distracted again. "You do not need to go to work tomorrow or the next day. We will drive to Lindenhurst, Massacusets and investigate. First, I need to return to KDF headquarters and fetch my gear." Megan glanced up at her lover and partner for the past few years. "I have not asked you if you wish to accompany me. Unicorn says I need to stop assuming how people will behave and to request their cooperation."
"I'd love to go. Absolutely. You have a change of clothes for me in your Jeep?"
"Along with a toothbrush, razor and shampoo," she said. Getting up eagerly, she started for the door. "Thanks for the sub. Now, I have six theories about this Dr Nightmare..."
Back at the headquarters building on 38th Street, Megan let Archie explain where they were going while she changed and grabbed her KDF gear. When she came back down carrying her knapsack, the Trom Girl was wearing sensible hiking shoes, blue jeans and a denim shirt with a light jacket over it.. but underneath, she had put on the silk-thin Trom armor and loaded various gimmicks and weapons into concealed pockets and pouches.
"When Sable returns with the rest of the team, she should contact me," Megan said at the door. "If I am needed for any urgent mission, of course I will return promptly."
Ashley Whitaker seemed so delighted she was on the verge of hugging herself at seeing the two on relaxed terms again. "Hey, maybe someday I can go help solve a 'Trom Girl Mystery,' you know?"
"Certainly," Megan answered in a blunt way that ended that train of thought. "I will call if there are any interesting developments. Goodbye, Ashley." With that, she headed out the front door with her knapsack over one shoulder. Following, Archie paused to raise a hand in farewell and got a wink from Unicorn. "Take care, you two," the little blonde said as she closed the door.
Megan kept her Jeep Wrangler in a rented space at IMPERIAL GARAGE on 40th Street, and soon they were heading along the Major Deegan Expressway heading north. Since it was going to be a four hour drive to Lindenhurst, Archie had brought along a case holding an assortment of CDs. Raised by the humorless and severe Trom, Megan had not been exposed to music growing up and now he was exposing her to different genres to see if she liked any of them.
During the long ride heading for the Turnpike, Megan listened patiently to one artist after another. Willie Nelson. Metallica. BB King. Frank Zappa. She was not particularly interested in most genres but jazz seemed to appeal to her. She asked him to play Dave Brubeck again.
"There are interesting patterns in jazz and some surprises," she explained. "The artist builds up to an expected sequence but then plays a variation on what you think you will hear. It's clever." She glanced over at Archie. "Did you bring any other jazz musicians?"
"Oh, sure, here's Charlie Mingus, my dad loved his albums..."
At the halfway point, they got out at a rest stop and switched sides. Archie took over the driving while Megan started researching the case on her Link. She was able to tap into police and FBI files even through the most secure firewalls without being detected, but it took time. Archie looked over to watch her delicate profile as she studied the letters flashing by on her Link's screen. It always amazed him that she would perfectly remember every word, address and phone number after seeing it for a split-second. Years later, she could repeat conversations she had heard with complete accuracy. Considering he had to write down everything he would need later, he thought this was the most useful super-power ever.
By the time they passed Boston and were entering Lindenhurst, it was getting near dusk. Megan suggested they book a room for the duration of the case and pulled into a motel by the side of the road. It was not rundown, but it was not luxurious either. Archie didn't mind, he had done a lot of traveling when he had gotten out of the Army as a younger man and had stayed in some real hellholes.
Checking into their room, Archie looked it over and found nothing surprising. The twin queen-size beds, the TV on the dresser, the little waist-high refrigerator in the corner. He placed Megan's knapsack and his own duffel bag in the corner by the window and went to peer out of the window. It gave a view of the highway, nothing scenic.
"I think we need a break before we begin detective work," Megan Salenger said. She came around in front of Archie, got up on her toes with her arms around his neck and kissed him. "How about a long hot shower where we scrub each other thoroughly?"
"Sounds good to me," Archie answered, smiling as he realized she was already unbuttoning his shirt.
III.
By six o'clock, they were dressed again and sitting side by side on one of the beds as Megan inspected her beam projector. This was an oblong metal device with a few control dials and a slot on the top. She inserted a cartridge into the slot, clicked it into place and adjusted the intensity. "Neural shock," she explained to Archie, "Standard precaution."
He got up and stretched in relaxed satisfaction. At the moment, he was not that eager to get back on the Dr Nightmare case but he realized she shifted mental gears faster than most people. "Good, good," he said distractedly. He went to the window and pulled the curtain aside slightly to watch a middle-aged couple trying to round up three grand-children into an SUV. "What's the agenda?"
"First, I want to speak with one of the victims. A man named Matthew Haney. His home was robbed while he and his wife were asleep. We will call him on the way."She tugged on her light jacket and picked up the keys. "I should drive. I have memorized a map of this town and know the streets."
"Fine with me," Archie said as he followed her out the door. He actually felt ready for another round of lovemaking but didn't say it. As he swung up into the passenger seat of the red Wrangler, he tried to put sex out of his mind and pay attention to the situation in front of them. More than once, these investigations had placed them within inches of getting killed.
The town of Lindenhurst, Massachusets had a population of almost 19,000. It had an unremarkable history, its most notable event being a flood that had killed over a hundred residents and ruined many houses in 1929. Megan found the Haney house on a side street next to a shopping plaza that held a supermarket, Chinese restaurant, tanning salon and Pizza Hut. There had been a video arcade there years earlier but its site was long unused. The Trom Girl pulled onto Maple Street and came to a halt in front of a modest but neatly tended white house with black shingle roof. Parked in front of the house was a dark red Firebird.
As they disembarked from the Jeep, Archie tugged at Megan's jacket with one hand, "Hey! Look at that."
On a utility pole almost within reach, an 8" by 10" piece of paper had been stapled. It showed a black and white photo of an unappealing face glaring out at the world, with the name DR NIGHTMARE written beneath. They examined it carefully.
"I have already run the picture through face recognition hardware, of course," Megan said. "FBI, CIA, NSA, Interpol, INTERCEPT, law enforcement records of every State in the US. There are no matches with a more than twenty per cent certainty."
"Aren't you worried about being thrown in the pen for doing stuff like that?" asked Archie with some uneasiness.
"The agencies have no idea I am tapping into their records. They are only using Human technology." The Trom Girl studied the picture. "Assuming this image has not been modified, I see a male Human about forty-six years old, underweight, of Central European descent. Polish, I believe. He has poorly maintained teeth and bad hygiene in general. As a child, he suffered some head injury. There is an indentation high on his left temple and a faint scar. He is myopic. He shaves using his right hand. The handwriting in the name is unremarkable and probably not his own. I believe he copied the graphic style from some logo he saw."
"You astound me, Holmes."
Megan gave him a quizzical look. "Someone else said that to me. What is a holmes?"
As Archie explained about the Sherlock Holmes reference, Megan led him toward the Haney home and rang the front doorbell. They were received by a couple in their sixties who seemed eager to tell the story of their home invasion from start to finish, in excrutiating detail. Sitting in a stuffy living room while Mrs Haney made coffee for everyone, Megan and Archie sat and listened for nearly an hour.
Only a few items had been stolen, one of them being an expensive German camera with its case of lenses. In the bedroom upstairs, Mr Haney had woken up from an uneasy dream and heard the front door close. Angrily checking, he found the theft and had immediately called the police.
There was one detail that made Megan and Archie both sit up and give each other wild looks. The dream that had awakened Mr Haney in such alarm was about the face on the posters he had seen. In the dream, he was being chased by Dr Nightmare down a long hallway. "That's... very interesting," the Trom Girl said at last.
It was difficult extricating themselves from the Haney home, as the old couple seemed to really enjoy having company. They were more than happy to give Megan and Archie lots of gossip about the other people who had been robbed recently. In fact, Mrs Haney knew the woman who had been molested. Her name was Kathleen Potter, she was thirty-eight and recently divorced, and she had told Mrs Haney that the scariest part was that she felt paralyzed during the attack. Potter said she could not even raise her arms to defend herself and barely managed to call her dog Frieda for help.
Putting down her coffee cup with a clink on the little saucer, Mrs Haney raised a finger for emphasis. "But you know what was really weird? She told me that she was having a bad dream too just before she woke up. And it was about those Dr Nightmare posters! What do you make of that?"
"Whoa," Archie breathed. "Even I see a pattern."
Megan stood up and shook hands with the couple, thanking them. "I promise you I will find an explanation for these strange events. You have been a great help."
"Who did you say you were working for again? The FBI?"
"No, but we do work with them. I'm with the Kenneth Dred Foundation. We investigate the inexplicable, such as what's going on in Lindenhurst." Megan firmly headed for the door. Archie paused to wave and the Haneys called goodbyes.
Heading back to the Jeep, he saw Megan go back to examine the poster on the pole again. "We have a few things to think about now, hon."
"Yes. If it were one case, I would suspect the medical condition of sleep paralysis, commonly known as 'night terrors.'" She tapped a forefinger against the poster. "I suspect this is a disguise. The nose does not match facial bone structure."
"I heard of that sleep paralysis stuff," Archie said. "But coincidence won't stretch that far."
"No." She was silent for a few moments and he knew it was best to let her mull things over. He watched cars pulling into the shopping plaza on the other side of the road where they stood. At least she had forgotten whatever she had earlier been mad at him over, he thought gratefully.
The Trom Girl turned to see what he was looking at. "Honey, I have never heard of a telepath entering the dreams of sleeping people but I don't see why it wouldn't be possible."
"Nope, I met your friend Cindy. That older woman who was a founding KDF member. She convinced me telepaths are real. You think this Dr Nightmare is, like, sending dreams of himself to his victims?"
"It's one possibility. He paralyzes them with his induced dreams so he can burglar their houses without them interfering. Or in one, attempted rape. It also seems probable that he is responsible for the stabbing death of James Dittman." She spun and went around to climb up into the passenger seat of the Jeep. "I have a mental map of the streets but I need to graph the locations of the crime scenes. It will require concentration."
"So, where am I driving to then?"
"Oh. Just head back toward the motel for the moment. I need to visualize."
Compliantly, Archie McAllister pulled back out onto the main street and headed back the way they had come. The idea of some psycho being able to send bad dreams into your head didn't exactly make him feel comfortable. What were they going to do if this Dr Nightmare freak WAS a telepath? Megan was smart and disciplined but she wasn't superhuman. He knew he certainly didn't have any tricks for dealing with a mind-reader.
After a few minutes, Megan announced, "All the incidents occured within town limits. The greatest distance covered is six miles. I do not see any patterns as far as sequence or location go." She thought for a few more minutes, eyes half closed. "The severity of the crimes is not increasing, either. They are not progressing from less to more serious. The murder was the second incident, the attempted rape the fifth, but trivial theft during burglaries occured between them."
Archie thought this over. "Sounds like this guy isn't getting into it and going for bolder crimes as he gets away with it, then?"
"No. These appear to be crimes of opportunity. If someone he hates was present, Dr Nightmare might kill him. If an attractive woman is alone, he might try sexual assault. Otherwise, he is liable to to steal whatever catches his eye. In one incident, he took most of the contents of a refrigerator."
"Hey!" Archie snapped his fingers. "That means he's not well off. If he thought it was a good idea to steal food, that kind of implies he doesn't have much money."
The Trom Girl agreed. "I have narrowed my theories down, Archie. Let's go back to the motel and set my plan in motion."
"Wait, what plan?"
She watched his face as he drove. "I will explain..."
IV.
At two-thirty in the morning, a flash of lurid red light flared up in the darkened motel room. Megan Salenger was alone in the bed, with the covers down by her waist and one arm up by her face. She was wearing one of Archie's T-shirts, big enough to serve her almost as a nightgown. In that huge OUTLAWS - WORLD TOUR T-shirt, with her hair tousled and no make-up as usual, she looked about twelve years old. The burst of red light woke her and her eyes snapped open but she did not move. She could not move.
A small nightlight by the door was just enough to show a thin figure in black sweatshirt and pants standing at the foot of the bed. His features could not be clearly discerned but the straggly long hair was visible. Appearing from nowhere, he swung around suspiciously and then relaxed. "Hello," he rasped in a hoarse voice that was obviously not his normal tone.
"Dr Nightmare," the Trom Girl said. "Now I know how you get into locked homes."
"It was your dream that drew me here," he chuckled. "In a way, you called me here. It was your dream about me that gave me the opening to appear here. In a way, what happens next is your fault."
"Blaming the victim is not valid." Megan frowned, staring down at her body as she tried to sit up but could not move at all. "Part of your power is inducing this paralysis, I assume?"
"Oh yes." The frightening figure moved to the foot of the bed. "It makes things so much easier. I can materialize where someone is dreaming about me and do whatever I please. That's why I put up all those posters, now there are always a few people dreaming about me. Heh. You don't seem to have much here worth stealing."
The Trom Girl could not even raise her head. "There are a few items you should know. In childhood, I was taught lucid dreaming. I can fall asleep at will for the length of time I decide, and I can decide what I dream about."
"So? You chose to dream about me? How flattering." Slowly, teasing her, Dr Nightmare reached up to grasp the blanket and pull it down to the foot of the bed. Megan's bare legs seemed to excite him. "Nice. Very nice."
Still unable to defend herself, she seemed oddly unworried. "You should be realizing now that I dreamed about you to lure you into a trap."
"What? Trap?" The dark figure straightened up in alarm a second before a big hand grabbed him by the shoulder and swung him around into a short straight punch directly to the middle of the face. Dr Nightmare reeled back a step, sagging to his knees as a second powerful right hook smashed against the side of his head. That did it. The man fell to the thin carpeting and his head bounced as he did not even try to catch himself.
"Yeah, you better stay down," Archie McAllister grumbled. He went over to where Megan was getting out of bed. "You okay, honey?"
"Everything seems nominal," she answered. "As soon as he lost consciousness, the paralysis ended. Let me get my beam projector." Picking up her device from the nightstand, she played the invisible neural shock beam over the limp form on the floor. "He will not regain awareness for at least an hour. I wish you could use this projector, but it is coded to only work for me."
First turning on the lights, Archie put a protective arm around her and Megan snuggled up appreciatively. "Umm, now what?" he asked. "We call the cops and turn him in?"
"That would be pointless," Trom Girl said. "We could charge him with breaking into this room and menacing. But even if we brought him to trial, a conviction is not guaranteed. Even if he were in prison, he could still continue appearing wherever anyone dreams of him, so he would quickly escape." She knelt and tugged off the stringy hair that had been glued with spirit gum to a nearly bald head. "I thought so. Watch, this nose is rubber, it is coming off."
"He doesn't look much like the posters now," Archie muttered. "He could walk around town and laugh at everyone not recognizing him."
Megan rose again, holding the wig and false nose disdainfully. "I think we need to bring him to KDF headquarters. I do not know how to remove his powers or make him harmless. Maybe we can contact Cindy to come and neutralize him. Sable may know who to call."
"What about that guy Nebel? The blind guy with the helmet? I heard Sable talk about him."
"We'll see," Megan said thoughtfully. "I must get dressed. We will first bundle this man into the Jeep and conceal him. Then we will check out here and drive back to New York. I will keep him sedated with the neural shock."
"All right, I guess it sounds like the best plan. I'll throw our gear into the Jeep. Once Dr Nutcase here is safely hidden, I'll go to the front desk and check out. Then we look forward to a long drive with an unconscious lunatic in the back seat."
Megan had gone over to pick up her clothes where she had left them neatly folded on a chair. "I hope you weren't uncomfortable waiting in the bathroom, Archie. I was concerned he might be able to see an image of where he would arrive and I would not be tempting bait if you were visible."
"Nah, I was fine," he dismissed the thought. "I've gone camping too much to worry about comfort. And I was determined to stay awake and keep both eyes open while you were trying to draw that psycho here."
The Trom Girl went back over to Archie and hugged him fiercely. "There is absolutely no one I would rather have watching over me!"
1/27/2016
A Trom Girl Mystery
4/29-4/30/2006
I.
When the doorbell rang, Ashley Whitaker squeaked with delight and bounced across the hall quick as any squirrel to the front door. The little blonde was immaculate in all white - boots, snug stretch pants and a long-sleeved pullover with a rolled collar. She swung her head to flip the shining platinum hair aside and crooned into the intercom, "Gooood Morning!"
Standing well behind her, Megan Salenger scowled grim as an executioner. She was as pretty as Ashley but in her own inquisitive, foxlike way. The Trom Girl was wearing an oil-stained beige jumpsuit over her civilian clothing, holding in one hand a part of the CORBY's remote guidance system she had been upgrading. In her other hand was a handmade diagnostic tool most Human techs could not have figured out.
"Hi there, Unicorn," came a familiar male voice through the speaker. "I'm here to see Megan."
"I am NOT here!" Megan called out sharply, tapping the diagnotistic tool against her hip.
"He heard you, silly," Unicorn laughed. She pressed the button that unlocked the street door to admit visitors into the vestibule where they could be IDed.
"Tell him I am occupied and cannot be interrupted," said Megan, taking one half-hearted step back toward the stairs.
"She's not doing anything special, Archie. Come on in!" The blonde checked the scanner results on the monitor screen at eye level, automatically verifying that the visitor had been identified and was not carrying any weapons. This only took a few seconds. She swung open the inner door and sang, "Hiiiii, Archie! Good to see you."
Looming up over both women, who only stood five feet one and five feet three respectively, Archie McAllister was a massive bearlike form in work boots, worn jeans and a red checked flannel shirt. As usual, he had not shaved in a few days and needed a haircut as well. In that massive, weathered face, his gentle blue eyes seemed incongruous.
"Too cute for words," Unicorn told him as she shoved him toward where Megan had not moved.
"Hi, honey," Archie said to Megan. "Are you still mad at me?"
"I think you should know," the Trom Girl answered icily.
"How about telling me what I did wrong? Or what I said wrong?" he went on. "I can't apologize if I don't know what for."
Megan brushed her shock of untidy black hair with one hand, gave him a stony stare and said, "If you think about it, you'll know what you did...."
"Oh for the love of God!" Unicorn interrupted. She snatched the electronic parts from Megan's hands and dropped them on one of the bookcases that lined the walls, then yanked down the zipper of Megan's jumpsuit. Underneath, Megan was wearing a dark green T-shirt and black slacks. Before the startled Trom Girl could react or resist, Ashley was pulling the jumpsuit off her.
"Lift your leg!" Unicorn yelled as she worked the jumpsuit cuff over Megan's sneaker. "Now the other one. All right!" Not all that gently, the blonde pushed her teammate by the shoulders almost into Archie's arms. "Better. Lots better."
The inner door was still open, and Unicorn seized both Archie and Megan by an arm each, propelling them into the vestibule. "It is a gorgeous Spring day outside. You two need to go for a walk for a while." As she closed the inner door, Unicorn saw Megan's perplexed stare and snapped, "You are getting a little TOO Human, Trom Girl! Stop torturing him."
Left in the tiny vestibule, just big enough for the two of them to stand without being on top of each other, Megan and Archie both blinked uncertainly. "I never know how to deal with her," Megan said at last. "Ashley seems to break the rules of social interaction as she pleases."
Archie opened the outer door to East 38th Street. "Well, let's go for a walk anyway. I wanted to tell you about some strange things going on in a town in Massachusets. Did you hear about this Dr Nightmare stuff?"
"Dr Nightmare? No." Megan hesitated for the barest instant, then stepped out onto the sidewalk after him. He started walking north and she followed. It was a warm sunny day in late March, with the city coming back to life after a vicious winter. She didn't even feel she needed a windbreaker. "Who is Dr Nightmare?"
"See, no one knows," Archie said as he walked her up towards Times Square. "It's in a town called Lindenhurst. Here's what I heard. Maybe a month ago, someone started putting up these flyers of a weird staring face with the words DR NIGHTMARE at the bottom. All over town, glued up on fences and walls and utility poles. No one knew what it meant." He paused amidst a cluster of pedestrians at the corner as they waited for the CROSS light.
"Hmmm. One might suspect a new album from a musical group? Or an independent film trying to stir up publicity?" Megan seemed to have forgotten for the moment she was angry with Archie over something.
"Yeah. Sounds like good explanations. But since the posters went up, there has been a dozen crimes in a quiet town. Burglaries with the homeowners asleep in the house, mostly, but one man murdered in his bed and nothing taken. And one woman woke up to find an intruder trying to rape her. Her dog, a big German Shepherd, came tearing in and chased the man away after quite a struggle."
The Trom Girl had that distant look in her eyes that meant she was turning over a dozen ideas at once. "What did this intruder look like?"
"Tall and thin, dressed all in black. He had long stringy black hair and a thin face with staring dark eyes. He looked in fact just like the face on the posters." Archie stopped in front of a pizza place. "I could stand a meatball sub, maybe some curly fries."
Wrapped in thought, Megan barely seemed to notice they were going in the pizza joint. "Yes. I am hungry too. I will have the same. It is strange that a criminal would post his own face all over public places."
Archie stepped up to the counter and ordered. "Yeah, it's weird. I read about this in the paper and thought, this is a perfect 'Trom Girl Mystery.'"
Squeezing his arm, Megan looked up into his face and finally smiled. "It is! I'm interested. Oh, meatball subs! Did we order these?" And she dug in ravenously.
II.
Taking out her Link as they finished up, the Trom Girl found a picture of the Dr Nightmare posters someone had posted online. The man looked like a victim of starvation, with sunken cheeks and deepset eyes, hair that was straggly and had not been washed for some time. The prominent nose added to a general resemblance to a vulture. Written across the bottom of the poster in cursive script was DR NIGHTMARE with no explanation.
Looking over her shoulder, Archie scoffed. "He doesn't seem like he makes a good first impression. Ever seen him before?"
"No. I am certain I have not." She began to clip the Link back to her belt, then stopped. "Archie, I want to investigate this phenomenon. It has a strong feeling of being Midnight War. First, we must get you a day off from the Harley shop."
"You call the boss," Archie said. "Ever since you modified the hydraulics at the shop and installed that free diagnostic computer, he has worshipped you. Giving me a day off now and then is not a problem for him."
Using the Link again, Megan patched into the regular phone system and called HARLEY HAVEN. The boss answered and, from what Archie could overhear, greeted Megan with hearty praise. Archie smiled ruefully. If only Lou was as nice to his employees...!
"Yes, that sounds like a fuel line blockage. Yes. The 1948 Indian that I saw last time can be repaired but it will require dissambly of the brake system. What? So the parts have more room to move. Yes, I will come by soon." She listened for a few more seconds. "Now, I want to take Archie with me to investigate some crimes. At least for tomorrow. Good. Thank you, Lou. I will be at the shop soon." She hung up and gave Archie a pereplexed stare. "He is too effusive, don't you think?"
Archie shrugged and picked up their plates to bring them back to the counter. "You have saved him a fortune, honey. You know more about bikes than guys who have been working on them all their lives."
"Internal combustion technology," she said, distracted again. "You do not need to go to work tomorrow or the next day. We will drive to Lindenhurst, Massacusets and investigate. First, I need to return to KDF headquarters and fetch my gear." Megan glanced up at her lover and partner for the past few years. "I have not asked you if you wish to accompany me. Unicorn says I need to stop assuming how people will behave and to request their cooperation."
"I'd love to go. Absolutely. You have a change of clothes for me in your Jeep?"
"Along with a toothbrush, razor and shampoo," she said. Getting up eagerly, she started for the door. "Thanks for the sub. Now, I have six theories about this Dr Nightmare..."
Back at the headquarters building on 38th Street, Megan let Archie explain where they were going while she changed and grabbed her KDF gear. When she came back down carrying her knapsack, the Trom Girl was wearing sensible hiking shoes, blue jeans and a denim shirt with a light jacket over it.. but underneath, she had put on the silk-thin Trom armor and loaded various gimmicks and weapons into concealed pockets and pouches.
"When Sable returns with the rest of the team, she should contact me," Megan said at the door. "If I am needed for any urgent mission, of course I will return promptly."
Ashley Whitaker seemed so delighted she was on the verge of hugging herself at seeing the two on relaxed terms again. "Hey, maybe someday I can go help solve a 'Trom Girl Mystery,' you know?"
"Certainly," Megan answered in a blunt way that ended that train of thought. "I will call if there are any interesting developments. Goodbye, Ashley." With that, she headed out the front door with her knapsack over one shoulder. Following, Archie paused to raise a hand in farewell and got a wink from Unicorn. "Take care, you two," the little blonde said as she closed the door.
Megan kept her Jeep Wrangler in a rented space at IMPERIAL GARAGE on 40th Street, and soon they were heading along the Major Deegan Expressway heading north. Since it was going to be a four hour drive to Lindenhurst, Archie had brought along a case holding an assortment of CDs. Raised by the humorless and severe Trom, Megan had not been exposed to music growing up and now he was exposing her to different genres to see if she liked any of them.
During the long ride heading for the Turnpike, Megan listened patiently to one artist after another. Willie Nelson. Metallica. BB King. Frank Zappa. She was not particularly interested in most genres but jazz seemed to appeal to her. She asked him to play Dave Brubeck again.
"There are interesting patterns in jazz and some surprises," she explained. "The artist builds up to an expected sequence but then plays a variation on what you think you will hear. It's clever." She glanced over at Archie. "Did you bring any other jazz musicians?"
"Oh, sure, here's Charlie Mingus, my dad loved his albums..."
At the halfway point, they got out at a rest stop and switched sides. Archie took over the driving while Megan started researching the case on her Link. She was able to tap into police and FBI files even through the most secure firewalls without being detected, but it took time. Archie looked over to watch her delicate profile as she studied the letters flashing by on her Link's screen. It always amazed him that she would perfectly remember every word, address and phone number after seeing it for a split-second. Years later, she could repeat conversations she had heard with complete accuracy. Considering he had to write down everything he would need later, he thought this was the most useful super-power ever.
By the time they passed Boston and were entering Lindenhurst, it was getting near dusk. Megan suggested they book a room for the duration of the case and pulled into a motel by the side of the road. It was not rundown, but it was not luxurious either. Archie didn't mind, he had done a lot of traveling when he had gotten out of the Army as a younger man and had stayed in some real hellholes.
Checking into their room, Archie looked it over and found nothing surprising. The twin queen-size beds, the TV on the dresser, the little waist-high refrigerator in the corner. He placed Megan's knapsack and his own duffel bag in the corner by the window and went to peer out of the window. It gave a view of the highway, nothing scenic.
"I think we need a break before we begin detective work," Megan Salenger said. She came around in front of Archie, got up on her toes with her arms around his neck and kissed him. "How about a long hot shower where we scrub each other thoroughly?"
"Sounds good to me," Archie answered, smiling as he realized she was already unbuttoning his shirt.
III.
By six o'clock, they were dressed again and sitting side by side on one of the beds as Megan inspected her beam projector. This was an oblong metal device with a few control dials and a slot on the top. She inserted a cartridge into the slot, clicked it into place and adjusted the intensity. "Neural shock," she explained to Archie, "Standard precaution."
He got up and stretched in relaxed satisfaction. At the moment, he was not that eager to get back on the Dr Nightmare case but he realized she shifted mental gears faster than most people. "Good, good," he said distractedly. He went to the window and pulled the curtain aside slightly to watch a middle-aged couple trying to round up three grand-children into an SUV. "What's the agenda?"
"First, I want to speak with one of the victims. A man named Matthew Haney. His home was robbed while he and his wife were asleep. We will call him on the way."She tugged on her light jacket and picked up the keys. "I should drive. I have memorized a map of this town and know the streets."
"Fine with me," Archie said as he followed her out the door. He actually felt ready for another round of lovemaking but didn't say it. As he swung up into the passenger seat of the red Wrangler, he tried to put sex out of his mind and pay attention to the situation in front of them. More than once, these investigations had placed them within inches of getting killed.
The town of Lindenhurst, Massachusets had a population of almost 19,000. It had an unremarkable history, its most notable event being a flood that had killed over a hundred residents and ruined many houses in 1929. Megan found the Haney house on a side street next to a shopping plaza that held a supermarket, Chinese restaurant, tanning salon and Pizza Hut. There had been a video arcade there years earlier but its site was long unused. The Trom Girl pulled onto Maple Street and came to a halt in front of a modest but neatly tended white house with black shingle roof. Parked in front of the house was a dark red Firebird.
As they disembarked from the Jeep, Archie tugged at Megan's jacket with one hand, "Hey! Look at that."
On a utility pole almost within reach, an 8" by 10" piece of paper had been stapled. It showed a black and white photo of an unappealing face glaring out at the world, with the name DR NIGHTMARE written beneath. They examined it carefully.
"I have already run the picture through face recognition hardware, of course," Megan said. "FBI, CIA, NSA, Interpol, INTERCEPT, law enforcement records of every State in the US. There are no matches with a more than twenty per cent certainty."
"Aren't you worried about being thrown in the pen for doing stuff like that?" asked Archie with some uneasiness.
"The agencies have no idea I am tapping into their records. They are only using Human technology." The Trom Girl studied the picture. "Assuming this image has not been modified, I see a male Human about forty-six years old, underweight, of Central European descent. Polish, I believe. He has poorly maintained teeth and bad hygiene in general. As a child, he suffered some head injury. There is an indentation high on his left temple and a faint scar. He is myopic. He shaves using his right hand. The handwriting in the name is unremarkable and probably not his own. I believe he copied the graphic style from some logo he saw."
"You astound me, Holmes."
Megan gave him a quizzical look. "Someone else said that to me. What is a holmes?"
As Archie explained about the Sherlock Holmes reference, Megan led him toward the Haney home and rang the front doorbell. They were received by a couple in their sixties who seemed eager to tell the story of their home invasion from start to finish, in excrutiating detail. Sitting in a stuffy living room while Mrs Haney made coffee for everyone, Megan and Archie sat and listened for nearly an hour.
Only a few items had been stolen, one of them being an expensive German camera with its case of lenses. In the bedroom upstairs, Mr Haney had woken up from an uneasy dream and heard the front door close. Angrily checking, he found the theft and had immediately called the police.
There was one detail that made Megan and Archie both sit up and give each other wild looks. The dream that had awakened Mr Haney in such alarm was about the face on the posters he had seen. In the dream, he was being chased by Dr Nightmare down a long hallway. "That's... very interesting," the Trom Girl said at last.
It was difficult extricating themselves from the Haney home, as the old couple seemed to really enjoy having company. They were more than happy to give Megan and Archie lots of gossip about the other people who had been robbed recently. In fact, Mrs Haney knew the woman who had been molested. Her name was Kathleen Potter, she was thirty-eight and recently divorced, and she had told Mrs Haney that the scariest part was that she felt paralyzed during the attack. Potter said she could not even raise her arms to defend herself and barely managed to call her dog Frieda for help.
Putting down her coffee cup with a clink on the little saucer, Mrs Haney raised a finger for emphasis. "But you know what was really weird? She told me that she was having a bad dream too just before she woke up. And it was about those Dr Nightmare posters! What do you make of that?"
"Whoa," Archie breathed. "Even I see a pattern."
Megan stood up and shook hands with the couple, thanking them. "I promise you I will find an explanation for these strange events. You have been a great help."
"Who did you say you were working for again? The FBI?"
"No, but we do work with them. I'm with the Kenneth Dred Foundation. We investigate the inexplicable, such as what's going on in Lindenhurst." Megan firmly headed for the door. Archie paused to wave and the Haneys called goodbyes.
Heading back to the Jeep, he saw Megan go back to examine the poster on the pole again. "We have a few things to think about now, hon."
"Yes. If it were one case, I would suspect the medical condition of sleep paralysis, commonly known as 'night terrors.'" She tapped a forefinger against the poster. "I suspect this is a disguise. The nose does not match facial bone structure."
"I heard of that sleep paralysis stuff," Archie said. "But coincidence won't stretch that far."
"No." She was silent for a few moments and he knew it was best to let her mull things over. He watched cars pulling into the shopping plaza on the other side of the road where they stood. At least she had forgotten whatever she had earlier been mad at him over, he thought gratefully.
The Trom Girl turned to see what he was looking at. "Honey, I have never heard of a telepath entering the dreams of sleeping people but I don't see why it wouldn't be possible."
"Nope, I met your friend Cindy. That older woman who was a founding KDF member. She convinced me telepaths are real. You think this Dr Nightmare is, like, sending dreams of himself to his victims?"
"It's one possibility. He paralyzes them with his induced dreams so he can burglar their houses without them interfering. Or in one, attempted rape. It also seems probable that he is responsible for the stabbing death of James Dittman." She spun and went around to climb up into the passenger seat of the Jeep. "I have a mental map of the streets but I need to graph the locations of the crime scenes. It will require concentration."
"So, where am I driving to then?"
"Oh. Just head back toward the motel for the moment. I need to visualize."
Compliantly, Archie McAllister pulled back out onto the main street and headed back the way they had come. The idea of some psycho being able to send bad dreams into your head didn't exactly make him feel comfortable. What were they going to do if this Dr Nightmare freak WAS a telepath? Megan was smart and disciplined but she wasn't superhuman. He knew he certainly didn't have any tricks for dealing with a mind-reader.
After a few minutes, Megan announced, "All the incidents occured within town limits. The greatest distance covered is six miles. I do not see any patterns as far as sequence or location go." She thought for a few more minutes, eyes half closed. "The severity of the crimes is not increasing, either. They are not progressing from less to more serious. The murder was the second incident, the attempted rape the fifth, but trivial theft during burglaries occured between them."
Archie thought this over. "Sounds like this guy isn't getting into it and going for bolder crimes as he gets away with it, then?"
"No. These appear to be crimes of opportunity. If someone he hates was present, Dr Nightmare might kill him. If an attractive woman is alone, he might try sexual assault. Otherwise, he is liable to to steal whatever catches his eye. In one incident, he took most of the contents of a refrigerator."
"Hey!" Archie snapped his fingers. "That means he's not well off. If he thought it was a good idea to steal food, that kind of implies he doesn't have much money."
The Trom Girl agreed. "I have narrowed my theories down, Archie. Let's go back to the motel and set my plan in motion."
"Wait, what plan?"
She watched his face as he drove. "I will explain..."
IV.
At two-thirty in the morning, a flash of lurid red light flared up in the darkened motel room. Megan Salenger was alone in the bed, with the covers down by her waist and one arm up by her face. She was wearing one of Archie's T-shirts, big enough to serve her almost as a nightgown. In that huge OUTLAWS - WORLD TOUR T-shirt, with her hair tousled and no make-up as usual, she looked about twelve years old. The burst of red light woke her and her eyes snapped open but she did not move. She could not move.
A small nightlight by the door was just enough to show a thin figure in black sweatshirt and pants standing at the foot of the bed. His features could not be clearly discerned but the straggly long hair was visible. Appearing from nowhere, he swung around suspiciously and then relaxed. "Hello," he rasped in a hoarse voice that was obviously not his normal tone.
"Dr Nightmare," the Trom Girl said. "Now I know how you get into locked homes."
"It was your dream that drew me here," he chuckled. "In a way, you called me here. It was your dream about me that gave me the opening to appear here. In a way, what happens next is your fault."
"Blaming the victim is not valid." Megan frowned, staring down at her body as she tried to sit up but could not move at all. "Part of your power is inducing this paralysis, I assume?"
"Oh yes." The frightening figure moved to the foot of the bed. "It makes things so much easier. I can materialize where someone is dreaming about me and do whatever I please. That's why I put up all those posters, now there are always a few people dreaming about me. Heh. You don't seem to have much here worth stealing."
The Trom Girl could not even raise her head. "There are a few items you should know. In childhood, I was taught lucid dreaming. I can fall asleep at will for the length of time I decide, and I can decide what I dream about."
"So? You chose to dream about me? How flattering." Slowly, teasing her, Dr Nightmare reached up to grasp the blanket and pull it down to the foot of the bed. Megan's bare legs seemed to excite him. "Nice. Very nice."
Still unable to defend herself, she seemed oddly unworried. "You should be realizing now that I dreamed about you to lure you into a trap."
"What? Trap?" The dark figure straightened up in alarm a second before a big hand grabbed him by the shoulder and swung him around into a short straight punch directly to the middle of the face. Dr Nightmare reeled back a step, sagging to his knees as a second powerful right hook smashed against the side of his head. That did it. The man fell to the thin carpeting and his head bounced as he did not even try to catch himself.
"Yeah, you better stay down," Archie McAllister grumbled. He went over to where Megan was getting out of bed. "You okay, honey?"
"Everything seems nominal," she answered. "As soon as he lost consciousness, the paralysis ended. Let me get my beam projector." Picking up her device from the nightstand, she played the invisible neural shock beam over the limp form on the floor. "He will not regain awareness for at least an hour. I wish you could use this projector, but it is coded to only work for me."
First turning on the lights, Archie put a protective arm around her and Megan snuggled up appreciatively. "Umm, now what?" he asked. "We call the cops and turn him in?"
"That would be pointless," Trom Girl said. "We could charge him with breaking into this room and menacing. But even if we brought him to trial, a conviction is not guaranteed. Even if he were in prison, he could still continue appearing wherever anyone dreams of him, so he would quickly escape." She knelt and tugged off the stringy hair that had been glued with spirit gum to a nearly bald head. "I thought so. Watch, this nose is rubber, it is coming off."
"He doesn't look much like the posters now," Archie muttered. "He could walk around town and laugh at everyone not recognizing him."
Megan rose again, holding the wig and false nose disdainfully. "I think we need to bring him to KDF headquarters. I do not know how to remove his powers or make him harmless. Maybe we can contact Cindy to come and neutralize him. Sable may know who to call."
"What about that guy Nebel? The blind guy with the helmet? I heard Sable talk about him."
"We'll see," Megan said thoughtfully. "I must get dressed. We will first bundle this man into the Jeep and conceal him. Then we will check out here and drive back to New York. I will keep him sedated with the neural shock."
"All right, I guess it sounds like the best plan. I'll throw our gear into the Jeep. Once Dr Nutcase here is safely hidden, I'll go to the front desk and check out. Then we look forward to a long drive with an unconscious lunatic in the back seat."
Megan had gone over to pick up her clothes where she had left them neatly folded on a chair. "I hope you weren't uncomfortable waiting in the bathroom, Archie. I was concerned he might be able to see an image of where he would arrive and I would not be tempting bait if you were visible."
"Nah, I was fine," he dismissed the thought. "I've gone camping too much to worry about comfort. And I was determined to stay awake and keep both eyes open while you were trying to draw that psycho here."
The Trom Girl went back over to Archie and hugged him fiercely. "There is absolutely no one I would rather have watching over me!"
1/27/2016