Nightmare Ballad Read online

  Nightmare

  Ballad

  By

  Benjamin Kane Ethridge

  JournalStone

  San Francisco

  Copyright ©2013 by Benjamin Kane Ethridge

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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  The views expressed in this work are solely those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

  ISBN: 978-1-936564-83-5 (sc)

  ISBN: 978-1-936564-76-7 (ebook)

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2013932044

  Printed in the United States of America

  JournalStone rev. date: May 17, 2013

  Cover Design: Denise Daniel

  Cover Art: Alan M. Clark

  Edited By: Dr. Michael R. Collings

  Endorsements

  "A darkly imaginative tale from a rising genre star. Ethridge plays a wicked tune in Nightmare Ballad." - Scott Nicholson, author of The Home

  “In a field where the twin juggernauts of vampires and zombies have rolled roughshod over the literary ground, leaving barren earth in their wake, Benjamin Kane Ethridge’s Nightmare Ballad blooms like a resilient flower amidst the desolation. My optimism over horror’s artistic viability is due primarily to works like this. Nightmare Ballad is edgy, original and unclassifiable, and Ethridge is a fresh voice whose bracingly modern take on surrealism may very well point the way to the genre’s future.” - Bentley Little

  Dedication

  For my parents April and Gary Ethridge, who never once dissuaded me from my nightmares.

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  Acknowledgements

  I wish to express my gratitude to family, friends, colleagues and especially fans for their continued support. The process of telling certain stories can be, I imagine, like mapping the nervous system of a recently discovered life form. Nightmare Ballad most certainly fell into that category for me. The fractured mind that often accompanies such endeavors can only be tempered with the help of others. So thank you. Thank you all. For the pleasant dreams.

  Verse 1: The Frogmen

  Chapter 1

  Luke awoke with it in his head.

  He struggled to remember the notes, the rhythm, some kind of progression or beat. Had it started in a dream last night, or had it started a minute ago? And was this a song he’d heard before? Or a song he wished to compose? He worked the dissonance around in his mind a little more, hunting for an associative memory, but nothing came to him. After swim class, if the girls weren’t busy, maybe he’d dust off the classical guitar and the song would work itself out through major and minor chords.

  Or had they been diminished chords…?

  This slippery music was driving him nuts! And he hadn’t even started to consider the cruel-happy tone of the singer’s voice, or that the lyrics echoed from some inhuman language.

  He wanted to say that the words sounded like the telling of a story, both old and new.

  One of his swim students, Petunia, paddled up to him with the reluctance only a fourteen-year-old girl can express. He knew she resented the fact that her parents made her take these swim lessons, being the oldest kid in the class by far. Most likely to pay them back, she was something of a flirt, and had absolutely no qualms about it. To get his attention, she lightly put her hand on his stomach, just above his swim trunks. He floated away from her touch.

  “Mr. Rhodes, we gonna use those raft things again?”

  “Maybe, Petunia. If we don’t run out of time. We still have to work on the dead-man’s float. Get back with the others, okay?

  She rumpled her freckled face and shrugged before kicking nosily away in the water.

  The sound of the splashing reminded Luke of the dream song—if he hadn’t had to concentrate on his class, he might have already remembered the song completely. In an effort to redirect his frenzied thoughts, he scanned the Rec Center pool. Beige plastic umbrella tables, over twenty half occupied; an anorexic lifeguard up on his towering chair, camouflaging his nose with pink sunscreen; a gentle chlorine breeze through the dying spruce trees invading the fence line. The brittle limbs cast threadbare shadows over a third of the crystal-blue water. It was heating up quickly, and the shade would rapidly recede. By noon the California sun would forge the Olympic-sized pool into a bar of blinding radioactive blue. Luke was thankful his parent-assisted swim class would be over long before it came to that point.

  “Form a line,” he instructed over the random splashes. “Parents can come to the side here with me or sit on the stairs.”

  Adults broke away from their children, who reacted accordingly with shared yips, yippees and splash-bombs. Petunia’s mother, Alice Stedding, predictably glided within schmoozing distance of Luke. It wasn’t difficult to see where Petunia got her flirting from.

  As the woman came at him, freckled breasts first, Luke craned his neck to the spot where her husband, Ralph Stedding, lazed on a beach chair, the nearby umbrella’s shade falling just short of him. Because of his buck teeth, everybody called him Mouse, but Luke had always felt uncomfortable with the nickname.

  “Hey, Ralph!” hollered Luke. “Sure you don’t want to come in? Must be hot out there.”

  Ralph shook his baseball-capped head and gave him a feeble thumbs-up. The lenses of his sunglasses captured the cloudless azure sky.

  “He’s lazy,” Alice complained, the pool’s shimmering luminance coursing across her face.

  Luke made a dismissive sound. “Ah, he’s wiped out from overtime at the plant though, right?”

  Alice half-smiled. “Let’s just say he needs to put in some overtime as a father for a change. Petunia’s almost forgotten he lives with us.”

  Luke nodded, out of politeness. The only noteworthy memory Luke had of his own father, Harold, was that movie he took him to see during the Summer of Classics down at the dollar theater: CAPTAINS COURAGEOUS. Spencer Tracey starred.

  Luke had always remembered the title as singular, “Captain Courageous,” until he saw the box in a video store as an adult. Great film, from what he remembered, but the finer story points were foggy now. It was the ending, with the Captain fatally injured, hopelessly caught in some ropes and topsail canvas and going down with the ship, so to speak, that had stayed with Luke more than the actual plot. That image was permanent but hazy... dreamlike.

  Luke snapped out of his ruminations. Shards of the strange song sank into his mind again, and he returned to his students. “
Kids, go to the side here. We’re going to practice holding our breath. Hold the sides and go up and down like last time—go at your own pace. Raul, buddy, you’re only eight years old, but you’re one strong dude—don’t hold Martin down like that or you’ll have to get out and sit. Miss Katie, don’t make yourself dizzy again. Take plenty of breaths of air. Nobody’s going for any records here.”

  “Why don’t you teach adult only classes?” asked Alice. “I need to become a stronger swimmer. Didn’t you almost make it to the Olympics?”

  “Junior.”

  “But still. You should be charging for these classes with your experience.”

  Luke could feel her close to him. He turned to watch the other parents, who were chatting or relaxing on the pool’s steps. Her husband Ralph was clearly snoring, the sound sputtering upward from his beach chair.

  Sure, leave me alone with the she-wolf.

  “Everything costs something these days. It’s nice to know some things are still free.”

  Alice caressed her wet, brown pony tail. “True. You’re very generous, though.”

  “Totally selfish,” he replied. “I love teaching. It beats the heck out of working in an office.”

  Luke started to approach the class again, but Alice caught the side of his trunks. He wheeled around. She put her hands up, acting more surprised than he. “Sorry, I meant to grab your arm.”

  “Okay….”

  More zigzag reflections of light scrambled her facial expression, but the heavy breathiness of her voice supplied all that needed to be known. “I’m sorry, but when would I ever get you alone?” She let out a small giggle and Luke’s face swelled with heat.

  He laughed it off like she’d made a joke, quickly moving away. He wanted to say a lot of things and at the same time he wanted to ignore her advance completely. The old Luke would have gladly taken her up on her not-so-subtle offer. Now, with Maribel and Dara, he’d never dream about betraying them in a million years.

  Dream.

  The word stuck with him.

  The song.

  In his head.

  He remembered it and the whole world dimmed. Every color flickered, like he was seeing everything with a new pair of eyes…

  What’s happening?

  The music fused together in his mind, an appalling, frightful ballad. All at once, he heard the entire song, every note and every word, and as familiar as it all sounded, it was like hearing it for the first time.

  The real world drowned at the corners of his vision. Not far from the Rec Center, a silken black curtain slipped down from the sky.

  “Where did that come from?” he asked himself. He stared at the rippling fabric for a moment, wondering what was behind it.

  Luke let out a gasp in surprise. Something slimy had thrust past his leg, causing him to stumble back. He jerked his body around and searched the area below.

  Saw only rippling water shadows.

  His flesh still tingled from where it had brushed him. That thing hadn’t been a person. Some type of sea creature that got into the pool somehow? He accepted this as possible, maybe even probable, and didn’t question it as outrageous, not in the least. He was thinking strangely—like he was in a dream. So accepting of the absurd.

  He gazed across the pool but still couldn’t find anything—the thing had vanished.

  The water had changed color. It was murky. Rust colored. Dangerous.

  “Everybody…,” he said hoarsely. “Get out of the pool. Now!”

  The children began hopping out of the pool, their wet, dripping forms blurring into the murky backdrop of the Rec center. The adults were out-and-out oblivious to his command. They let loose full-throated laughs, some hooting, some splashing backward in the water like big kids. Luke’s stomach fell.

  “Hey, stop, parents OUT too,” he said over their roar. “What’s the matter with you people?”

  He panicked as something dull struck his leg again and buckled his knee. With several jelly-slow movements, he got himself turned around but again found nothing in the iced-tea-colored water.

  A voice rang out.

  Alice’s. Her face was drawn, eyes wide with alarm as she searched the pool. “Petunia! Where are you? Mouse! Get in here! Go get her. Oh God! Petunia! She’s in the deep end! The deep end!”

  Before Luke could cast his eyes to where Alice pointed, a resounding splash disturbed the water.

  Ralph Stedding’s beach chair was empty.

  Luke looked up at the life guard. But a different man sat in the majestic white chair, a spear resting over his black-feathered lap. He looked like a witchdoctor or some type of tribesmen, but his skin was darker than human pigment could ever be, and charred bones penetrated the flesh of his legs, arms and face. Fiery, yet impassive eyes stared down and made Luke’s heart race. He turned away in dread.

  A purple raft floated in the deep end of the pool.

  “Petunia?” Luke shouted. His heart hammered and his blood went hot in his face. Luke dove through the water as fast as he could.

  The pool smelled indescribably awful, and only got worse. How he could actually smell while underwater, he had no clue, but the burning, rotting funk made itself known in the core of his sinus.

  Luke opened his eyes. Below him, the pool’s floor moved and a human shaped swam off. It was a man in a scuba outfit, exactly the same rust color of the water. Fleetingly he recalled another movie he and his dad had seen about World War II… what had those divers been called?

  Frogmen.

  Luke yelled out a torrent of bubbles. He suddenly knew the frogman had evil intentions for Petunia. He just knew.

  Luke swam faster but made no progress. Invisible fingers caressed his belly, and he flopped over, foul water going up his nostrils. It tasted better than it smelled but not by much: bitter chocolate and iron. He broke the surface and spat. Despite the taste, he ducked his head underneath again. He could see a little better now…the iced-tea atmosphere had thinned to a light-brown haze. Dozens of frogmen swam around the bottom as if they’d been doing this since the dawn of time. Luke’s mind responded: Those air tanks last them forever—they can be down here forever.

  He came back up for air and heard Petunia just behind the raft. “Hey, Mr. Rhodes? This yours?”

  She let out a scream and threw something up in the air. The object came down with a splash, a small red thing in the water. Luke closed in on the raft and swam to the other side.

  Everything was quiet now. He grabbed the side of the pool and looked to the other end. Nobody was there. They’d all taken off. How did they do that so quickly? Petunia was just here!

  A red rubber ducky floated just beyond the raft. Instinctively, Luke reached for the toy. It bobbed away. He extended farther, and his struggling sent the duck down the length of the pool. Luke inspected the raft again, then pushed it away. He had to get her out of here before those things…

  Above the surface of the water he saw.

  On the bottom of the pool, lay Petunia, curled in a tight ball.

  He dove down after her.

  Underwater, a striking sound echoed.

  Plink.

  Plink.

  Plink.

  Deranged music pursued him as he plunged deeper. Luke’s eyes widened. There were no frogmen. He was alone. He had to prove he could do this. Of course he could. Captain Courageous showed how much he cared. That’s what a real man does. Out of high school Luke had been a lifeguard for four summers. Only had one person come close to drowning, though.

  Please don’t be dead, Petunia.

  The girl looked gray. It could have been the water, which seemed to darken the closer he got to her, but her skin had taken on the color of eel or shark flesh. That’s how dead people look, isn’t that right?

  Luke hungered for air. Only ten feet down, his lungs squeezed and burned. When he reached the bottom of the pool, his vision went black, he was dying, he couldn’t make it, he had Petunia’s ankle, so cold it stung his palm—he tried to swim back u
p to the surface with her in tow. Something halted him. His vision cleared and he saw…the pool seethed with the shadowy figures in wetsuits and flippers, all forcing people to the bottom to drown them. There, twitching in the middle, were Ralph and Alice Stedding. Other parents had joined them in this mass execution.

  Luke halted. One of the frogmen held Petunia. Luke ground his heel into the creature’s face, and its goggles snapped in half. The eyes should have been animal-like, but they were darkly human, so human that the sight made Luke’s muscles go limp. He almost let the girl slip through his fingers, but he renewed his grip and pulled her upward.

  When they broke through the water, the end of the pool had reconfigured. It reminded Luke of his parents’ pool at their house in Glendale, but in Olympic proportions. On the other side, the recreation center still stood but had several more stories, with red trim rather than blue.

  He hadn’t heard her get out of the pool, but Petunia ran for the exit, now located where the restroom and showers should have been. Before making it outside, she stopped and vomited a stream of iced-tea water. She made a face at him, part sickliness, part accusation. “Why didn’t you tell me that was your duck?”

  “What are you talking about? Petunia, wait—“

  A great rumbling from beneath the pool carried a tapestry of froth over the side and soaked the concrete above.

  Petunia moaned and charged off, puking again.

  Luke grabbed onto the railing and pulled himself out of the water.

  A frogman ten times the size of the others emerged in a frenzied splash and chased after him, the clanking of its enormous scuba tank like a god’s hammer striking an anvil. Plink, plink, plink. Violent eyes beheld him beyond the giant square diver’s mask.