Adult-FanFiction.org : Movies

The Dream Trap	By : Flynnparadox Category: M through R > Nightmare on Elm Street Views: 2545 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own A Nightmare on Elm Street, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
Chapter Ten: Freddy's "Accomplice"
1
In 1967, Dr. Saunders was simply Andrea Saunders, a student at the college in Springwood. She hadn't grown up in town, but in Cleveland and had taken a scholarship here at the college. On this particular night, she was in the medical college building, in the lab, leaning over a dead body. In her young twenties, she was beautiful, although her looks would only improve with age. Her red hair was tied back and she wore a pair of glasses that just added to her sexiness. Opposite her was another student, Wendy, a little more unkempt - frumpy - than Andrea.
The dead body on the slab was a young man, practically in the prime of his life except for the fact that he was dead. Andrea opened up the Y-cut in his chest, explored the cavity with her scalpel.
"Why are we here this late?" Wendy asked. "We should be home, asleep."
"Sleep is for tortoises," Andrea said. "And if you don't get an A on that mid-term, there's no way you're going to keep your scholarship."
Wendy sighed.
"Right," she said. "It's just...spooky."
"What's spooky?" Andrea said.
"Being here, this late at night."
"The lab?"
"Yeah. And just...you know, out."
Andrea stopped working, looked up at Wendy. She frowned.
"What are you talking about?" she said.
"Well, you know," Wendy said, "that killer. The Springwood Slasher."
"You're actually worried about him?"
"Well, sure, course!"
"Wendy, he kills kids. We're college students. I don't think we have anything that he'd want, if you know what I mean."
"I just don't like being out is all. Come on, let's go back to the dorm room, get high and go to sleep."
"Man, this guy must have smoked about seven packs a day," Andrea said, rummaging through the corpse's chest.
"Are you even listening to me?" Wendy said.
"Yes, and all I'm hearing is a yipping little girl scared of her own shadow."
"Well, that's nice. Thank you. You know, I will go home. See if there's any pot left over when you get back."
She stormed off, out of the lab. Andrea waved her goodbye.
"I'm really worried," she deadpanned. "Oh, no, the Springwood Slasher is going to get me!"
She laughed and got back to work.
2
It was well after midnight when she left the lab. The medical college was housed in a large building way off in a corner of the campus, practically sitting off campus itself. The walk back to her dorm was considerable but she didn't get very far that night.
She spotted the man dragging something through the parking lot right off the medical building. This was technically off campus, a parking lot for an old boiler room, part of a power plant that had once been thriving but was now a ghost town. The man was not tall - a little short, in fact - with reddish blonde hair and a dirty sweater red and green stripes on the chest and back but with flat red arms. He was dragging a black plastic bag, possibly a trash bag. It looked somewhat heavy and bulky and he was further inconvenienced by a sack he had slung over one shoulder.
She approached the man silently, head cocked, inquisitive. In the skies above, clouds gathered, lightning flashed. The man still hadn't seen Andrea yet so she pushed it further, walking right up behind him.
"Need help?" she asked.
He wasn't surprised - or, at least, he didn't act surprised - and just turned around to regard her, all cool calm and composure. He smiled at her. It was strange: half-winning, half-sinister.
"No," he said, "thank you. I've got it."
"Looks pretty heavy," Andrea said.
"It'll be fine. My car's right over there."
He pointed and she looked. The man dropped the bag and it fell to one side of Andrea. She couldn't help but notice that the bag opened slightly when it dropped. Andrea could clearly see a leg.
She knelt down, reached out a hand to touch the leg. Above her, the man rummaged in the sack with a hand and came out with a glove that he slipped on. It had razors for fingers. He raised the clawed hand above his head, ready to strike.
"Is this a body?" Andrea said.
The man - Fred Krueger - was just about to strike, but was stopped by the next thing that Andrea said:
"Fascinating," she said. "A little girl?"
She looked up at him, questioning eyes spotting the razored glove, raising an eyebrow. With a sideways smile, she challenged him.
"Did you kill her?" she asked.
Krueger didn't know what to say. Slowly, he lowered the glove.
"You're not afraid?" he said.
"No," Andrea said. "I'm intrigued."
She stood up, offered her hand, thought better of it, and simply gave a tiny little bow.
"I'm Andrea Saunders," she said. "I go to the college here. I'm in the medical program but my real interest is in the mind. So, someone like you - I'm assuming you're this 'Springwood Slasher' everyone's been talking about - someone like you would be of great interest to me. I won't tell anyone. I just want to know a little about you, your methods, your thought process."
Krueger thought about it for a minute, then grabbed hold of Andrea by the front of her sweater. He pulled her close, their faces inches apart.
"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you right now," he said, "and dump your body along with this little angel?"
Andrea thought about it. She had to tread carefully here.
"Because you're intrigued, too," she said. "You want to be observed. You strike me as someone who likes to be watched, someone who needs an audience. I can be that audience. Just sometimes, not all the time."
The Springwood Slasher smiled and it was hideous, charming and poisonous. Andrea smiled back and her smile wasn't much better.
3
"This is where you take them," Andrea said.
It was several months later. Krueger and Andrea had spoken on more than one occasion but hadn't met in person until now. They were deep in the boiler room where Krueger worked, in a forgotten hole that no one ever went to anymore.
"Yes," Krueger said. "Most of the time."
"It's an interesting place," Andrea said.
She touched the various pieces of metal, torture devices, weapons. Krueger watched her as she made her way around the room.
"How long do you keep them before you..." Andrea said.
"Kill them?" Krueger finished her sentence.
"Yes. Kill them."
"Not long. Most of the time. Day or two. A few I've kept longer. And a few I've killed within the hour after I've snatched them."
Andrea pulled a small pad of paper and a pen out of her purse. She looked at Krueger.
"Do you mind if I take notes?" she asked.
"Yes, I do mind," Krueger said.
"Oh, well, then..."
She put away the items. She took a few steps towards him, cautiously.
"What do you think about when you kill them?" she asked.
Krueger, looking sinister in an old fedora, smiled and picked up a straight razor on a nearby work bench. He lightly sliced at a thumb as he spoke.
"It's the power," he said. "They're so small, so vulnerable. Their lives are in my hands. I hold the power. You can't imagine how amazing that feels."
Andrea nodded, walking back and forth through the room. Water dripped from the ceiling in several places across the room.
"And this one," she said, "what are you going to do to this one?"
She had stopped at another bench, on which lay a young girl, supine, bound and gagged. Her eyes were filled with tears and terror. Andrea watched her, devoid completely of emotion. Krueger joined her to look at the scared little girl. He smiled.
"Something juicy," he said.
4
Andrea sat in the courtroom, looking prim and proper, legs crossed, arms in her lap, a serious, respectful look on her face. This is what she looked like on the outside. Inside was a different story. Inside, she was trying not to laugh.
It was the day of Krueger's trial. They had caught him, finally, and Andrea did not aid the prosecution, nor did Krueger reveal anything about Andrea's "involvement," either. They had met up several times over the period when she had met him until the day he was arrested. She hadn't been able to speak with him in custody but she had spoken briefly with his lawyer.
Which was why she was trying not to laugh.
During the whole period that the prosecution was presenting its case, showing slide after slide of victims photos, Andrea knew what was coming. Knew what Kreuger's lawyer had up his sleeve. It was going to be beautiful.
Inevitably, the moment came. The prosecution rested and it was the defense's turn. And the bombshell went off. A simple matter of an unsigned warrant. Just a little thing, and their whole case collapsed like a house of cards.
Freddy was free.
Lt. Thompson, Blocker and practically everyone else in the courtroom was furious. It was a madhouse. Krueger was released. Andrea didn't dare see him right away. That would have to wait until the smoke had cleared. But would it ever clear? Would the town let him be free?
5
Andrea watched, from hiding, as the parents of Elm Street - dozens of them - torched Krueger in the boiler room of the power plant. She shook her head: it was a shame. Krueger was such an interesting subject to study. She felt like she wasn't able to spend nearly enough time with him. She wanted to learn more from him.
Donald and Marge Thompson, along with Blocker, led the group of parents. Andrea didn't like them, straight off. There were high-and-mighty, holier than thou types, stuck up and hypocritical. Andrea instinctively found herself wanting to see them punished in some way.
As the boiler room burned, Andrea quietly slipped away, back into Springwood, onto her new life.
6
After Krueger was killed, Andrea Saunders left him behind, tucked away in her mind, for a while. She graduated, pushed herself, became Dr. Saunders, opened her own practice. All the while, she stayed in Springwood. Something kept her there. In retrospect, she decided that it was Krueger all along, reaching out, encouraging her to stay.
It was in the late 70s/early 80s when she started researching dreams: and, further, dream diving. She would take naps at odd hours of the day. Small ones, fifteen to twenty minutes, enough time to drop into a dream state and then wake back up, her mind refreshed, new ideas in her head.
At night, she explored her dreams more extensively. Eventually, she found Freddy.
Or, perhaps, he found her.
They shared something deeper in her unconscious than they did in the flesh. Their minds met, intertwined. And she found him much more attractive now than he was in life. He had more power than he ever had previously.
She knew, of course, that Freddy was using her, playing up her silly, romantic side, but so be it. It was her only release.
But, she also knew, that one day he would ask her to do something. Something unethical, something dangerous even.
Something diabolical.
- 9
- 10
- 11
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Dream Trap