The Terror Zone

A stranger cries out in the night. He has a secret he can no longer bear to hide. Beggin for solace, he reaches out to his psychiatrist. Because of the psychiatrists' will to help, she is being haunted by her past, and being raped of the reality she has come to know, her life spins out of control.

Her daughter is kidnapped, ad her friends and patients are being tortured and murdered. She tries to put the pieces together, but the intruder tightens his grip on her sanity and she now pleads for help.

Her friend comes to her rescue and suddenly disappears, and her boyfriend is in the hospital with no way to preserve whatever shred of sanity she has left.

Terrified of what invasive torment the assailant might inflict n her next, she spirals through a world of pain, revulsion, and seething psychosis. As her mind spins a web of deceit and deception, she literally opens the doorway to the terror zone.

Prologue

As an eerie mist rolls over the Florida Everglades, I squint at the numbers on the clock, only to grasp the reality that it's only been seven minutes since the last time I checked. Life is empty, cold and meaningless since that fateful moment my daughter was kidnapped.

Six months have passed; I've struggled to stay sane and begged for help from everyone and anyone. I did all the things a mother could do; handed out fliers of my little girl's face, pleaded with every agency I could muster and then some; and to my dismay, we'd run out of options. Of course a mother would never give up.

My life was filled with warmth and smiles. Now I am but a shell, empty, hollow and deprived of emotion. The Closeness and love we shared echos in my mind as insomnia creeps in and sanity fades to illusion.

This is my story, based solely on apparitions of the mind. I will begin at that most crucial moment in time, when I feared my life would change forever.

But before we get started, I feel it is my obligation to caution you upon reading any further....

Insomnia can strike at any time to anyone. So cuddle up with a loved one or grab that fluffy blanket you are so fond of. Night is creeping in, and you might start to question reality as you read on; for in the deep dark pockets of your mind harbors something so unnerving, so appalling, so dreadful, it can only be described as the Terror Zone...

CHAPTER ONE

Another night of insomnia passes as he's startled awake, screaming and sweating profusely, from a nightmare he can't overcome. Afraid to close his eyes another second, he reaches for a towel to swab his drenched brow and burning eyes. Dreams of suffering and torment the likes of which only a monster could appreciate. Being hidden and alone for nearly three decades has taken its toll. He can't bear the thought that he could execute such acts of violence and horror. The thought that maybe he is inherently evil. Picking up the phone yet again, he dials a number etched in his mind so many times, he knows it by heart.

"Good morning, Dr. Skyler's office. Kerry speaking. How may we help you?" Kerry was just like a sister to me. I'd known her many years, and when she graduated from college, I'd offered her a job, before someone else had the opportunity. She was all of our-foo-eleven-inches tall, brown hair, and 125 pounds soaking wet. She studied hairdressing, but I talked her into working for me until she built up her clientele.

"I need to speak with Dr. Skyler please. It's an emergency."

Kerry hesitated for a second; she thought the man sounded distraught, so she said, "Who may I tell her is calling?"

"My name is George Chatterly."

"Yes, please hold, Mr. Chatterly.

"Dr. Skyler, there is a Mr. Chatterly on the phone."

"Can you take a message Kerry; I'm in the middle of a session with a client."

"I know Susan but he insists he talk to you. He says it's an emergency; and does sound a little disturbed."

"Could you excuse me a minute Mr. Rhymes? I need to take this call."

Mr. Rhymes nodded in agreement and sat back on the couch with a magazine in hand.

"This is Dr. Skyler. Can I help you?"

"Dr. Skyler, my name is George Chatterly. I know where those children are that the task force is looking for."

I didn't want to get my hopes up like the last three times we'd had false alarms. Being in the psychiatry business had toughened me a little to strangers with useless babble; and I was sick and tired of ludicrous ranting from lunatics, so I had become what seemed impatient ever since my daughter was taken.

CHAPTER TWO

Imagine driving into an old city district. The houses all made of old brick; they'd turned an icky green from age and all the houses were about 6 inches apart. The grass was splotchy and trampled into transparency.

I knocked on Mr. Chatterly's door with Paul at my side.

He must have stood six-foot-eight. He was a handsome man with blondish-brown hair. Except for the dark circles under his eyes and the premature graying around his temples, I'd say he was in his mid to early thirties.

"We went to the marsh where you said someone hid those children, Mr. Chatterly. There were only four children there. Where are the other twelve?" I asked, trying not to sound intimidating, yet realistically wanting to tear his heart out, if it would save my daughter.

"You must be Dr. Skyler," said Mr. Chatterly. "I only took four, I swear. I mean, I only saw four."

"What do you mean?" I screamed. "First you say you took four, and then you say you saw four. What the hell did you do, Mr. Chatterly?"

"I have dreams sometimes. Dreams that show my face hurting people, but when I wake up, I know I couldn't commit such horrible acts. That's how I knew where those children were. I saw it in my dreams. That's why I came to you and turned myself in. I knew where the children were, but I didn't put them there."

"Will you excuse us for a minute, Mr. Chatterly?"

"Yes, of course," he said, as he walked to the kitchen to pour himself some tea.

"What do you think, Sky? Do you think he's a nut job?"

"I prefer to use the term confused, if you don't mind Paul."

"Yeah, whatever," said Paul.

"Look at this place, Paul. The newspapers piled against the wall, date back ten years or more. The blanket was bundled up on the antique recliner, or easy chair, as they used to be called, almost worn to nothing. The dishes could possibly have been sittin in the same place since Reagan was president. I think I need to question him in my office. We certainly can't convict him if we don't know all the facts."

"All the facts? Look, sweetheart, I see where you're going with this, but he so much as admitted to us that he knew where those kids were. I call that good evidence. Besides, he could be a child molester or rapist, not to mention a dangerous creep!"

"He could have truly seen someone put them there or blocked it out of his mind. If I hypnotize him, I could possibly get to the truth, or he could confess." I leaned close to Paul and whispered. "Okay, maybe this is selfish, but if I get inside his head, maybe I could find Lindsey. Please Paul, if we turn him inn to fast I might lose her forever and never know what happened."

George walked back into the living room with a tray of cups and hot tea.

"We're going to have to turn you in to the authorities, George," said Paul.

I jabbed Paul in the side and looked at him intimidatingly. I whispered in Paul's ear, "What part of our little talk didn't you understand?"

George set the tray on a nearby end table, pulled a gun from his pocket, and pointed it at his head. "No, I've been that route, and I'll never go back. I won't let you take me in."

I walked toward him and said "George put the gun down. You don't want to do this. Once we take you downtown, I'm sure we can work something out. Trust me, George, I know you don't want to live like this anymore. You said it yourself. You came to me remember? Just trust me.

"I'm scared, Dr. Skyler. I'm scared I'll find out I really did hurt people, and I know now, I can't live with that. Will you help me, Doc?"

"Let's take this one step at a time. If you don't want to go any further, you can tell me, and I'll do all I can to fight the system. Besides, if I'm your doctor, I can't divulge anything we talk about in private."

"Okay, Doc, I'll do it," he said, as he lowered the weapon. "I swear I don't remember hurting anyone. It was just in my dreams, don't you see?" mumbled George.

Paul slowly pried the gun from George's hand and shoved it into his coat pocket.

As we drove George to the police station, I asked him several questions.

"Can you remember when your dreams started?"

"I have had them all my life. I always felt like someone was watching me. It's this creepy feeling, like the devil has taken my soul or I'm possessed. I was afraid to tell anyone, but I couldn't take it anymore. I had to find out what I am or why this is happening to me."

"Okay," said Paul. "To sum up what you've said, you see things in your dreams, you think someone's watching you, and you think you are possessed by the devil. Is that right?"

Again, I nudged Paul. "Keep your comments to yourself, Paul. I'm the psychiatrist here, remember?" Then I turned to George. "Do you remember exactly when you realized those four children were in the marsh?"

"I had a dream a week ago. I saw myself holding the door of the box open. shoving the children inside and locking it. I even saw myself take food to them. I don't know all the childrens' names, but I know what they look like. I didn't do it. I kept watching the news to find out any information I could about those poor tiny babies."

"Where were you born?" I asked.

"I don't know. I was orphaned and brought up in the bayou by a woman who couldn't have any children. They said she died from encephalitis when I was four. I have been passed around ever since."

"Do you remember what your mother's name was?"

"No. It was so long ago. I just can't remember anything anymore."

"Could I set an appointment with you for Monday, for our first session?"

"Of course, Doctor, I need to get this off my chest."

"I can't promise you a miracle, Mr. Chatterly. All I can promise is that I'll try to pick your brain enough to help you remember."

We walked him into the police station and turned him over to an Officer Beck. Beck had dark wavy hair, with sideburns, like something out of the seventies. Sort of reminded me of Sylvester Stalone.

I told Officer Beck I was Mr. Chatterlys' doctor and that I would be in to visit with him.

Before Officer Beck and George walked away, I turned and said, "Get yourself a lawyer, Mr. Chatterly. You'll probably need to get a hold of a bail bondsman as well. See you Monday."

"What do you think Sky?" asked Paul.

"You already asked me that, Paul. I have no idea what goes through people's heads unless I spend quality time with them. I can tell you this much. I got an uncanny feeling of trust when he said he didn't do it."

"I don't know how you can be so remarkably forgiving, Sky." said Paul.

"It's my job, Paul. I love people. Anyway, people are innocent until proven otherwise, remember?" I said irritated.

"All right, I suppose I am being a slight bit cynical. What are you going to do this weekend?" asked Paul.

"I'm going to soak in a hot tub when I get home, curl up on my couch, read a book and wait for the phone to ring. I have all the confidence in the world that I will find my daughter alive."

"How would you like to go camping?"

"That sounds wonderful, but I can't leave. What if they find information leading to Lindsey's whereabouts and I am nowhere to be found? Did you see the looks on those parents' faces when they gt their children back? I would give anything to wear that face."

"You haven't gotten out for quite some time. I am sure they'd call you on your cell phone, if they heard anything. We don't need to go far."

"Okay. Thanks for the ride," I said, as I kissed him on the cheek.

"Really? I'll pick you up at six tomorrow morning." Paul said, jubilantly.

Paul rang my doorbell right at six a.m. He was always on time for everything. I rubbed my eyes and opened the door.

"Good morning beautiful. Did you sleep well?"

"I was restless. I kept thinking I heard noises, but I can sleep on the way to the campground."

"Wow, great motor home Paul."

"Thanks, I rented it for the weekend. There is a terrific KOA Campground about twelve miles from here. It offers a fishing lake, swimming, canoes, rubber rafts, a bike trail, indoor restrooms, seventy-two sites and water connections."

"I see you've done your homework. You sound like you're doing a commercial for the place."

"I didn't want you to be disappointed," said Paul.

"I love you," I said, with a big smile.

"Ditto," said Paul. "So, why won't you marry me?"

"You know I can't commit to something like that when Lindsey is still missing."

"I know. I just don't want you to forget," he said, with a prod.

After sawing logs for what seemed like twenty minutes, we'd arrived at our destination.

"Wake up, Sky, we've arrived at the site."

"That was a short nap. This place is beautiful, Paul. What say we go swimming before we unpack?"

"Whatever you want my love. Just let me change into my trunks."

"I already have my suit on. I wore it under my clothes. Ever since my Girl Scout days, I like to be prepared. I'll see you in the water," I yelled as I ran toward the lake.

I walked to the end of the pier and jumped in. It was nippy but not freezing. There were only a few people lying on the beach. It was such a beautiful place. I couldn't imagine why so few people were here. I swam to the middle of the small lake and already started to feel relaxed, as I watched Paul dive in and swim to join me.

"I'll race you to the other side," I goaded.

"I'll beat you to the other side," said Paul, sniggering.

"Why do you think there are hardly any campers here?" I asked.

"It's spring. Camping season doesn't officially start until summer. Most people don't like to camp in the rain."

"And we do?" I said.

"It's not raining now," said Paul.

"Okay, fair enough, but I beat you."

"Oomph," said Paul. "Just for that I'll fix dinner tonight."

"Oh, you are a charmer."

We decided on a campsite right near the water. It was beautiful. The sites were cleared of debris, and they had large barbeque grills. Paul fixed steak with baked potatoes, and later we roasted marshmallows, while Paul told scary stories.

"Look over there," I said. "Heat lightning. Isn't it awesome?"

"It lights up the whole sky. It is magnificent. I think we will have a full moon tomorrow night. We can probably eat by candlelight and sip on wine. I happened to spy a grocery store on the way in."

"You are the last of the romantics, darling," I said as I kissed him gently on the lips.

"Did you hear something?" I asked.

"What, sweetheart?"

"Listen. I heard it again. It sounds like twigs cracking," I said.

"I don't hear anything baby. Perhaps I should stop with the scary stories. You're starting to imagine things."

"There! Did you hear it that time?"

"Yeah. It's probably some of the other campers or their dogs going for a walk."

"You're probably right."

"Would you like me to play some tunes on my guitar?"

"I'd love that. Lindsey used to love to listen to you play," I said, unconsciously, and then I started to cry.

Paul wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. "Lindsey's going to be all right. We'll find her. Come on, don't think about it. Would you like to go for a walk?"

"Okay. It's getting a little chilly, just let me slip on a sweatshirt."

Paul gently wiped my tears, and off we went for a walk.

"Paul," I whispered. " Doesn't it sound like some one's following us?"

"It sounds like some one's out there, but I don't know about following us."

"What if it's bear? Shouldn't we go back to camp, to be safe?"

"If It'll make you feel better, we'll head back. But I gotta tell ya, if a bear is chasing us, he's not going to use camping etiquette when he ruins our lovely evening."

When we arrived back at the campground, it was a shambles.

"What the hell?" said Paul. "Maybe you were right. Perhaps there was a bear in the area."

"Why would a bear search through our clothes? How would he get in the trailer anyway?"

"Oh, well maybe we left the door open."

"Come on Paul, you know there's something weird going on here. Look nothing is ripped open. I know you are just trying to ease my mind, but you're taking it too far."

"You got me there, honey. Let's clean up, and we can go to the office in the morning and file a complaint. It's probably just some kids goofing around."

"You're probably right, as usual. Let's go to bed, I'm tired."

When we finished cleaning up, we went to bed. It was late, and I tried not to show it, but I was still thinking of my daughter, so I was as it seemed quite often these days, depressed even though Paul was being a perfect gentleman.

I woke up with Paul's arms gently caressing me. It felt so nice. I moaned and rolled over, hoping he'd rub my back. He brushed his hands across my back side and squeezed gently. I moaned again. The peaceful quiet of the morning relaxed me and the sensation turned me on. All I could hear were birds singing. We made love in a way we'd never done before.

"That was wonderful, Paul. Thank you so much. I had forgotten how relaxing it feels to just let go and enjoy myself."

"You could have that wonderful feeling 24/7 if you chose to," said Paul.

I just smiled. We laid there in each other's arms and fell back to sleep.