Self-Defense Read Online Free PDF Page A

quack hotlines on TV—dial-a-psychic-pal—that cost more than
this?”
    “Sure, but I don’t claim to tell the
future.”
    “Only the past, right?”
    “If I’m lucky.”
    She turned serious. “Well, maybe the dream
is coming from my past, because it has nothing to do with what’s going
on with me now. And in it I’m a little kid.”
    “How little?”
    “Three or four, I guess.”
    Her fingers moved nervously.
    I waited.
    “Okay,” she said. “Better start from the
beginning: I’m somewhere out in the woods—in a cabin. Your basic log cabin.”
    More fidgeting.
    “Is the cabin somewhere you’ve been
before?”
    “Not that I know of.”
    She shrugged and put her hands in her lap.
    “A log cabin,” I said.
    “Yes.... It must be at night, because it’s
dark inside. Then all of a sudden I’m outside... walking. And it’s even darker.
I can hear people. Shouting—or maybe they’re laughing. It’s hard to tell.”
    Closing her eyes, she tucked her legs
under her. Her head began to sway; then she was still.
    “People shouting or laughing,” I said.
    She kept her eyes closed. “Yes... and
lights. Like fireflies—like stars on the ground—but in colors. And then...”
    She bit her lip. Her eyelids were
clenched.
    “Men,” she said.
    Quickening her breath.
    She dropped her head, as if discouraged.
    “Men you know, Lucy?”
    Nod.
    “Who?”
    No answer.
    Several quick, shallow breaths.
    Her shoulders bunched.
    “Who are they, Lucy?” I said softly.
    She winced.
    More silence.
    Then: “My father... and others, and...”
    “And who?”
    Almost inaudibly: “A girl.”
    “A little girl like you?”
    Headshake. “No, a woman. He’s carrying
her—over his shoulder.”
    Eyes moving beneath the lids. Experiencing
the dream?
    “Your father’s carrying the woman?”
    “No... one of the others.”
    “Do you recognize him?”
    “No,” she said, tensing, as if challenged.
“All I can see is their backs.” She began talking rapidly. “She’s over one of
their shoulders and he’s carrying her—like a sack of potatoes—with her hair
hanging down.”
    She opened her eyes suddenly, looking
disoriented.
    “This is weird. It’s almost as if I’m...
back in it.”
    “That’s okay,” I said. “Just relax and
experience what you need to.”
    Her eyes closed again. Her chest heaved.
    “What do you see now?”
    “Dark,” she said. “Hard to see. But... the
moon.... There’s a big moon... and...”
    “What, Lucy?”
    “They’re still carrying her.”
    “Where?”
    “Don’t know....” She grimaced. Her
forehead was moist.
    “I’m following them.”
    “Do they know that?”
    “No. I’m behind them.... The trees are so
big... they keep going and going... lots of trees, everywhere—a forest. Huge
trees... branches hanging down... more trees... lacy... pretty...” Deep
inhalation. “They’re stopping... putting her on the ground.”
    Her lips were white.
    “Then what, Lucy?”
    “They start talking, looking around. I’m
scared they’ve seen me. But then they turn their backs on me and start moving—I
can’t see them anymore, too dark... lost... then the sound—rubbing or grinding.
More like grinding. Over and over.”
    She opened her eyes. Sweat had trickled to
her nose. I gave her a tissue.
    She managed a weak smile. “That’s
basically it, the same scene over and over.”
    “How many times have you had the dream?”
    “Quite a few—maybe thirty or forty times.
I never counted.”
    “Every night?”
    “Sometimes. Sometimes it’s just two or
three times a week.”
    “Over how long a period?”
    “Since the middle of the trial—so what’s
that, four, five months? But like I said, after I started seeing you, it
stopped till last night, so I figured it was just tension.”
    “Does the girl in the dream look like any
of Shwandt’s victims?”
    “No,” she said. “I don’t—maybe this is
wrong, but I get the feeling it has nothing to do directly with him. I