Author's Note: Here it is: the first chapter of my new story. Now on to the disclaimers and warnings!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own A Nightmare on Elm Street or any of its characters.

WARNING: CERTAIN CHAPTERS OF THE FOLLOWING STORY WILL CONTAIN GRAPHIC SEXUAL CONTENT, GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, AND ADULT LANGUAGE. TO AVOID SPOILERS, THERE WILL NOT BE INDIVIDUAL WARNINGS FOR EACH CHAPTER.

Wake

Chapter One: No One's Home

1981

Nancy flinched as the burnt-out end of a cigarette hit her square in the forehead. It landed in her lap, still curling with white smoke.

"You're gonna hurt my feelings if you keep zoning out like that," Rod Lane said. "What's the matter? Are we not entertaining enough for ya?"

She looked up to see that wicked smirk on his face. His hand was still raised in front of him, thumb and forefinger spread wide to make it obvious that he'd flicked the smoke at her.

"Leave her alone, you pain in the ass," Glen said. He was leaning forward from his seat on the couch beside her, trying to look intimidating. Nancy hid a small smile. It was sweet of him to jump to her rescue, but also completely useless. With his slender build and doe eyes, Glen was about as intimidating as a gazelle.

Rod put up his hands in mock defense. "Hey, man, I just want everyone to participate in our discussion. How else are we gonna heal our deep-rooted psychological trauma?"

"Group ended six hours ago," Glen spat. "And none of us want to hear about all the girls you screwed in junior high."

"How do you know?" he countered. "Did you ask the ladies?"

Nancy rolled her eyes and drew her legs up onto the cream couch cushion. "Certain things go without saying," she muttered before flinging Rod's cigarette back at him. It bounced off his knee and fell to the white tiled floor.

"That's your opinion," he sneered. "Tina, what about you? Wouldn't you like to hear the rest of the story?"

Tina, who had been sitting in his lap and absent-mindedly twirling his black, olive oil hair, leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. "Not one word of it, dickhead. You're much cuter when you don't talk."

"You guys suck, you know that?" Rod said. "Maybe I should take Dr. Simms' advice and surround myself with 'people who listen, understand and refrain from judgment.'"

"That sounds like a great idea, Rod," said a deep voice.

All four kids snapped their faces toward the doorway as Max, a large orderly in green scrubs, strolled into the TV room. He came up behind them and braced his hands on the back of the couch.

"You can start your search tomorrow morning," he said. "It's lights out."

At those last few words, a chorus of groans erupted from the teenagers.

"Come on, Max. It's only eleven," Nancy argued. "One more hour?"

Max held up a hand to silence them. He breathed in deeply, about to concede with a sigh, when he froze. His brow furrowed. "Why do I smell smoke?"

Rod slid his foot over the cigarette bud on the floor and stepped on it. With an easy smirk, he said, "Same reason I smell sweet, sweet pussy everywhere I go: Your brain knows what you want, and it loves to tease."

"You ain't fooling anybody," he said, sniffing the air again. He shot one last suspicious glance toward Rod and turned back to the door. "Just as long as it ain't pot," he said under his breath.

"Oh, what - If it were drugs you would have told on us?" Rod said, despite the glares he got from his friends.

Max stopped mid-step and looked over his shoulder. His smile was bright, nestled in a dark brown beard. "Hell no. If it were drugs," he said with a twinkle in his eye, "I would have joined you."

He left the room whistling. From down the hallway they heard him shout back, "You got one hour."

"I love you, Max," Tina called out before falling into a fit of giggles. Her thin arms wrapped around the back of Rod's neck, and she let her head fall against his shoulder.

"Jesus," Glen said, "When are they gonna stop putting us to bed like we're toddlers?"

"Max is alright," Nancy said with a shrug.

His tone was thick with contempt. "Yeah. Max. But the rest of them are either robots or assholes."

She couldn't exactly disagree with him on that. None of the orderlies, nurses or doctors at Westin Hills seemed to care that much about their patients. They do what's outlined in the job description, and nothing more. Most of them don't even look at you when they pass you in the hallway. And the therapists just regurgitate the same textbook bullshit at every group session (in slightly different words).

She looked across the room at the potted fern in the corner, beside the television set. This room was designed to feel homey, but instead it all came across as bland and impersonal. The walls were a plain-paper white. The tiles were waxed linoleum, covering the floor in neat rows like the most boring jigsaw puzzle in the world. The fluorescent ceiling lights would be better suited to a dentist's office. This was everyone's home, and this was no one's home. The bars fitted into the window frames were there to remind them of that.

"They don't give a shit about helping anyone," said Rod. "If anything, this place will make you even crazier. Especially after you find out what happened here."

"What happened?" Nancy asked.

"You don't want to know," he said.

Her gut was telling her to drop the subject, but she knew that wasn't going to happen. "I know what I want," she said. "besides, you brought it up. Just tell me."

Rod scoffed. "Why? So your little guard puppy can growl at me again for giving you nightmares?"

Glen hadn't been paying much attention to the conversation, but he heard that last remark and shot Rod a dirty look. "You're full of it. Nothing happened here," he said. "It only shows how smart you are, that you believe in all those campfire stories."

"It did happen," Rod said with a flash of irritation.

Nancy sat up straighter and leaned in, as if an invisible string tethered her to the object of her curiosity. "Come on."

Rod let out an exasperated sigh, and she knew he'd caved. "Fine. But don't bitch to me if you don't like what you hear."

"Don't be so dramatic, babe," Tina interrupted. She was obviously still high from whatever rainbow-colored pills her wonderful boyfriend had French-kissed down her throat an hour ago, Nancy thought. They all ignored her and got down to business.

"It was way back in the nineteen-thirties," Rod began.

Glen's eyes held a flicker of skepticism. "Are we supposed to be scared of something that happened fifty years ago? That's-"

"Shut the hell up," Rod said. "You wanted to hear it."

"Go on," Nancy urged, waving a hand at Glen to hush him as he rolled his eyes.

Rod cracked his neck to the side and dropped an arm over the back of his cushiony chair, content with the silence. "As I was saying, this chick used to work here back in the thirties. She was a nurse or something, working in the Hathaway House across town and that old tower out behind the fences." He pointed a lazy finger at the end of his draped arm, and Nancy glanced at the barred window. It was too dark outside to see anything, but she knew what he was talking about.

"That was where they kept all the biggest assholes in Ohio," he continued.

"You mean 'the most violent psychiatric patients' in Ohio," Glen corrected.

"Too many syllables. And I already told you once to shut up; don't make me tell you again."

Rod talked shit, but Nancy could tell that he wasn't annoyed by the interruptions. His mind was somewhere else now.

"Right before the staff locked the tower down for Christmas break, she went in to do God knows what and got locked inside. No one came back for days," Rod went on.

Nancy sat on the edge of the couch, hanging on his every word. He knew what she was waiting for, and he fell silent for a few moments just to see her squirm. Even Glen couldn't look away. Finally, he continued with his usual inappropriate smirk. "A hundred whack-jobs pounded her like a raw meatloaf."

"Oh my God," Nancy whispered as she covered her mouth.

"Eww," Tina spoke up again, "I don't wanna hear about that, Rod. It's gross."

He grabbed her waist and pulled her back against his chest, kissing her neck. "Sex with an institutionalized man isn't such a bad thing," he said. "You didn't seem to mind it last night."

"Did they kill her?" Nancy asked.

"No, she did that part herself, thirty years later. Never even quit the job," he said.

Glen was unmoved, or at least pretending to be. "Again: Why are we supposed to be scared? The tower's been empty for decades."

"That's what you think," Rod said. "But I know a guy who swears he saw her in there."

"Oh, yeah? Who?" Glen asked, not having any of this superstitious nonsense.

"Kevin Murdock."

"That guy's a fucking psycho!" Glen shouted, throwing up his hands.

"Quiet, Glen," Nancy said. They all waited a few seconds to see if any of the hospital's staff had heard them, then continued speaking in hushed voices.

"Murdock's the only guy in this whole place that deserves to be here," Glen continued. "You can't believe a single word that comes out of his mouth. He's nuts."

"Isn't he that guy who's supposed to be getting some new operation done?" Nancy asked.

"Yeah," Glen said. "And it'll be the best thing that ever happened to him."

Rod was livid, raking a thick-jointed hand through his hair. "You don't know that. They're just using him as a guinea pig because if something goes wrong, no one will miss him."

"People don't usually miss psychos, Rod," Glen said in a condescending tone, as if he were explaining to a five-year-old that Santa Claus wasn't real.

"No." Rod shook his head. "I Shoot the shit with this guy sometimes: He's descent. A little off, but not completely gone. We were playing black jack a week ago when he told me what he saw. If you could have seen the look on his face, you'd know he meant every goddamn word."

"So, he saw the girl? The dead one?" Nancy asked, trying to pull him from the argument.

Rod nodded. "He saw her. She wasn't a girl anymore, though. She's old as shit."

"Nancy, please don't tell me you believe this crap," Glen said.

"Why don't we go and see for ourselves?" she offered.

"That's not a-"

"What's the harm if it's not real?" she interrupted.

"Oh, I don't know," he replied, tapping his chin. "Maybe solitary confinement for attempted escape."

"But we're not 'escaping.' We're exploring," she said.

"They don't know that."

Nancy slid closer to him, eyes wide and earnest. "They wouldn't have to know anything, Glen. We'd be right back before Max comes to check on us."

She and Rod stared at him. Meanwhile, Tina played with Rod's earlobe, not caring if they were to spend the night in that room or go on a rocket-ship ride to Mars.

Glen groaned. "Alright. Let's go. Shall we take turns trying to squeeze between the window bars, or do you have a magic spell that will let us phase through the locked doors?"

Rod flashed an arrogant smile that seemed to say you're about to look really dumb in a few minutes.

"Follow me," he said, nudging Tina off his lap so he could stand up. She stumbled into the coffee table and steadied herself before taking Rod's arm. At the doorway, Nancy peered out into the hall. It was empty.

"All clear," she whispered.

The kids snuck between offices and patient bedrooms, each dressed in the same white buttoned-down pajama top and bottoms. Most of the nurses had clocked out for the night, and the blinds were closed over the frosted glass on every office door. Rod led them through vacant corridors toward an abandoned wing of the hospital. The rooms there had been out of use since long before any of them had taken up residence at Westin Hills. The bulbs in the ceiling lights had died out years ago and been left hanging.

They walked through darkness which was broken up only by light from the windows spaced along the wall. Moonbeams flowing in through each window projected luminous squares onto the floor, with the shadow of bars slotted across. All except for one. As Nancy approached it, she saw only two black bars clustered off to one side of the glowing patch, and that was where Rod stopped. He turned to the corresponding window and grinned.

A thick layer of dust covered what was left of the corroded metal bars. Five had fallen out and were lying in a crumbled pile on the floor below. Cracks splintered along the remaining two. When Nancy stepped closer, she saw that the glass behind it was broken, letting in a night breeze that stirred her wavy brown hair.

"Nobody comes down here anymore," Rod said. "As you can see, we've got a bit of a security breach on our hands."

Glen chuckled before he could stop himself.

"Step back for a second," Rod told Nancy. She gave him some space, and he grabbed onto one of the bars, jiggling it like a loose tooth. The bolts and screws clattered onto the windowsill. Everyone but Rod shielded their mouths and noses against the expanding dust cloud. Rod gave one last hard tug and the bar came out. Next, he undid his nightshirt, pulling it off to wrap the clothes around his elbow. As he smashed out the remaining edge of jagged glass around the frame, Tina trailed her fingers down his toned back.

"Ooh," she said, "I like where this is going."

Rod finished brushing off the shards and turned to her. Her pupils were huge in the feeble light. "Baby, I don't think you have a clue where this is going," he said with a sly chuckle. "But I like your attitude."

"Would you two knock it off?" Glen said. He ignored the glare from Tina and stepped forward. "Come here, Nancy." He motioned to her and she went. With a grunt, he and Rod lifted her up into the window frame. She climbed out and dropped to the grass, then assisted the other three. Tina came first, then Glen, and finally Rod, since he was the tallest and didn't need anyone to help him up.

The tower before them stood high against a backdrop of twinkling stars, a stone monument to some of the darkest days of the psychiatric practice in America. Moonlight edged the decrepit grey bricks in silver. To Nancy, it looked like a giant tomb, and she couldn't imagine being locked inside for even one night.

They crossed the grassy lot and hopped the rattling chain-link fence that was supposed to deter people from going any closer. As she approached the intimidating wooden doors of the main entrance, Nancy got a better look at the neglected state of the building. The face of each brick was porous and crumbling, worn down from ages of weather. They mounted the wide flight of steps, and were greeted by a heavy padlock hanging between the brass door handles.

"Great," Glen said. "Now let's go back. You couldn't break that lock if Tina's boobs depended on it."

But Rod and Nancy didn't look the least bit concerned. Rod pulled out a loose brick from the tower's shambling exterior wall and struck it against one of the handles. After a few blows, it came off and dangled below the lock.

"I don't have to," said Rod. He chucked the brick and pushed in the door. It opened up like a black hole in front of them. Nancy stared into it, stomach clenching and palms moist. She stepped through.

xxxxxx

"Check this out," Rod said. Glen and Tina came up behind him to see what he was pointing to. Nancy glanced over at them. They were crowded around a low wooden cabinet stocked with tiny glass jars. The narrow beam of Rod's flashlight passed over them. Each had a label that was almost too faded to read, but they could make out a few words. Glen reached through the shattered glass door and took out three bottles.

"It's insulin." He turned it upside down, swishing the clear liquid. The other two were the same, and as Glen was putting them back and starting to turn away, Tina stopped him.

"What's that in the back?" she asked.

Rod leaned down to see what she was pointing at. "Where?"

Tina shoved her arm inside the cabinet before anyone could stop her.

"Be careful, Tina!" Rod yelled. She'd cut her arm on the edge of broken glass but was unaware of it as she pulled out the jar. Rotating it between her thumb and forefinger, Tina examined the thick red liquid inside with her dilated eyes.

"It's blood," she said, holding it closer to read the label. A thin trickle of her own blood rolled down her forearm. "It says…type AB negative, twenty milliliters, and-" She paused and narrowed her eyes. "What does that say? At the bottom?"

Rod crouched and shined the light at it, trying to decipher the tiny print. When he figured out what it said, he snatched it from her like it were a hissing rattlesnake. "Jesus. Don't touch that."

"What's your problem?" she whined.

"It's infected with malaria," he said.

Glen's nose wrinkled in repulsion. "Why did they keep that in here?"

"Who knows," Rod said, shrugging. "Stop being so careless, Tina. Alright?"

She cuddled up next to him. "Aww, is someone worried about me?" she teased.

Rod scoffed and pushed her away, and she almost fell into Glen before catching herself. "Jerk," she mumbled.

Nancy had been watching them from across the room while she sat on her haunches, leafing through an old, heavy duty filing cabinet. She was planning to go and smack Rod in the back of the head, but something diverted her attention. She could have sworn a hand had been wrapped around the edge of the doorframe right beside her. Blinking, she rose to her feet. It was probably her imagination, but she had to see for herself. Without so much as a fleeting glance to her friends, who were arguing about whether or not Rod was a pussy, she stepped toward the doorway. It led back out into the corridor, which was much harder to navigate without Rod's flashlight. She felt her way along with one hand on the wall, promising herself that she wouldn't go too far before returning.

The hall was lined with doors, some opened and some completely off their hinges. Each one was so dark, she thought there could have been nothing on the other side but a void. She passed by, wondering what was within them but not having the nerve to stand still and look. The darkness seemed to flow out of them and follow behind her, and when she turned around, she could no longer see the other end of the hall. Darkness hung like an impenetrable curtain.

She continued on, ignoring the tightness in her chest. No one was in here. And if someone was, then they were probably another patient out exploring or messing around, same as her. That would explain why the person was being so quiet.

"I'm not a nurse," Nancy whisper-shouted. "I'm not going to tell on you; I'm not supposed to be out here, either. Hello?"

She felt stupid. There had been no hand, and no one was hiding in these rooms. Get a grip, Nancy.

When the wall appeared in front of her, she nearly walked into it. A dead end. "Okay, well, have fun imaginary floating hand," she called in no particular direction. "I'm going back now."

She sighed and turned around, and almost walked into the wall.

Again.

"What the hell?" She reached up to feel the cold stones, wondering how a wall had erected itself there in the five seconds she hadn't been looking. Maybe Rod had slipped her some colorful pills, too. The new corridor which had opened up wasn't as long as the one she'd come from; she could see the other end from here. And she didn't like what she saw.

A long stairwell descended into hazy layers of darkness. She approached it with hesitant steps, watching carefully for any sign of motion.

"Glen? Tina?" she called. "Are you guys still here?"

There was nowhere to go but straight ahead, yet her feet resisted every inch. The closer she got to it, the more it seemed like a cavernous mouth waiting to swallow her. An unshakable feeling had rooted itself in her mind that someone was standing at the bottom of those steps. The possibilities overran her imagination.

Sharp teeth. Wicked intent. Arms spread wide, ready to grab her.

"Glen?" she whispered, voice shakier than before.

Swallowing the lump that had grown in her dry throat, she pressed on. The stairs led down to an expansive room with high-set windows along the back wall. She started to move toward them, hoping to get out that way, but stopped when she banged her thigh on something hard. A quiet curse slipped from between her gnashed teeth as she leaned over to rub the sore spot. The object in front of her took a more definite shape with each passing second while her eyes adjusted to the dark. The surface was curved and white. It had a dull porcelain finish like what you'd see on a toilet. But this wasn't a toilet.

It was a bathtub. The room was full of them, lined up in rows. Thick leather restraints hung down each side, with adjustable brass buckles for the tightest fit. She shuddered as she pictured dozens upon dozens of gaunt, naked lunatics pulling their wrists against the straps and writhing in the water as it slowly turned cold.

Nancy darted between them to the windows. Her palms pushed hard against the glass, but it wouldn't budge. There was no latch, no way to slide it open. The thick plate of glass had been cemented into the wall with the intent for it to remain there, sealing off the outside world. As she scanned the room for something to smash it with, she saw a figure standing against the wall opposite from her. She didn't want to believe that it was anything more than a mannequin draped in fabric. Then it started coming toward her.

"You won't get out that way, child," said the figure. The voice was that of a woman's, gentle and tempered with age. Her tone had an underlying sadness that eased some of the tension in Nancy's shoulders. But she still backed into the wall behind her as the woman approached. When the figure stepped under the meager light from the windows, Nancy saw that it was an old nun. Her hair was hidden beneath a white headdress and her frail body beneath loosely flowing robes. A single cross pendant adorned her chest.

"You can't get out at all. Don't you know who runs this place?" the woman asked. When she had been on the other side of the room, the echoes of her voice had sounded natural. Now she was close to Nancy, but her words still sounded like they were coming from far away.

They both looked to the ceiling as a sheet of powdered mortar rained down on them, shaken loose by the roar of an explosion above. The tower sounded like it had been consumed in an inferno up to its highest levels. A blazing light like the glow of hellfire flooded down from the top of the stairwell. The flames flickered behind the silhouette of a man on the bottom step. He stood with one shoulder dipped low and the bold outline of a fedora on his head. The black fingers on one of his hands stretched to a point down by his knees, hanging motionless like a claw. He splayed them wide.

Before she had a chance to scream, she was sitting up in bed and drenched in sweat. Her damp white sheets were cold to the touch. With a deep sigh, she fell backward into the pillow. Strands of hair were stuck flat against her glistening forehead. Staring up at the ceiling, she tried to calm herself, but her shallow breaths couldn't keep up with the hammering in her ears.

Tina lay asleep in the cot across the room, with only her blonde hair peeking out from beneath the blanket. A blue lamp sat on the nightstand between them. Nancy fought the urge to reach over and switch it on; she didn't want to disturb her friend. Curling onto her side, she closed her eyes and wished to go back to sleep as quickly as possible to a nicer dream. Her lips parted a bit as her muscles relaxed, and soon she was once again on the edge of consciousness.

Until something brought her back.

She tilted her ear toward the door, where she was sure she heard something. Pushing aside her covers, she crept across the floor and crouched by the keyhole for a peek. The hall was empty. The knob gave off a squeak when she turned it, and she left the door open behind her. Whatever she'd heard was much clearer out here. It almost sounded like groaning, but that couldn't be possible. It wasn't coming from any of the bedrooms. Instead, the noise echoed from a part of the building that should have been empty at this time of night.

The operating rooms.

She passed through a seemingly endless succession of long, pitch-black corridors, and the sound grew louder with each turn. There was no mistaking it now: It was groaning. At first, it was emotionless noise, like white static or the sigh of the wind. A disembodied voice drifting through the halls. But then, as if snapping into consciousness, the voice became more urgent. The sounds seemed to be mutating into a weak, disoriented protest.

Goosebumps prickled the back of her neck as she stood at the intersection of two hallways. Not sure which way to turn, she held her breath and strained to hear. She determined after a few seconds that the sounds were coming from down the left corridor. But when she turned onto it, the groaning got louder. It filled the wing of the building, rising into frantic, throat-tearing screams.

Nancy froze in her tracks and stumbled backward. She turned to run, hating herself more and more with each corner rounded. She ran like all of hell were after her and didn't stop until she reached her room, where she spent the rest of the night wide awake beneath her bed sheets, feeling like a coward.

xxxxxx

A scoop of steaming sunny-side up eggs slid off the metal spatula and onto Nancy's breakfast platter.

"Next," the cook behind the counter hollered. Nancy lifted her food after taking a glass of orange juice in her other hand and shouldered her way through the crowded cafeteria. Glen and Tina were already at their table, forking hash browns into their mouths.

"How's your head, Nancy?" Glen asked as she sat down.

Not sure what he was talking about, Nancy reached up to touch her forehead and felt a throbbing lump.

"Ouch," she said under her breath.

Tina smiled at her sympathetically. "That was a pretty bad fall."

Before Nancy could ask what had happened, she caught sight of a boy sitting a few tables down from them. Amid all the chatter and bustle of the morning, he sat at an empty table in front of an empty tray. His sunken eyes stared straight ahead as if he were unaware of what went on around him. Nancy would have mistaken him for a propped-up corpse if it weren't for the steady rise and fall of his chest and the occasional twitch of his spindly fingers. She looked around to see if anyone else was concerned about him. At every table, kids were talking and play-shoving each other. Some were trying to flirt, while others were locked in hushed arguments. They were all wrapped up in their own business. No one noticed the boy.

She glanced back to her own table as she heard chair legs scraping along the floor. Rod slid into the seat next to Tina, letting an arm fall around her shoulders.

"Good morning, stud," she said with a roll of her eyes.

He was going to say something back, when Nancy spoke up. "Who's that guy over there?" she asked, pointing at the catatonic young man. Rod craned his neck to see, and when he turned back to her, the grave expression on his face was all the answer she needed.

"Jesus, what's wrong with him?" said Tina. Rod didn't reply. He tugged a folded-up piece of paper out of his back pocket and smoothed it flat on the table.

"I took this from the bulletin board in the hallway a few minutes ago. I was gonna wait until after breakfast to show you guys. The nurses must have posted it late last night."

They all leaned in to see. The heading said "Schedule A." Below that, a long list of names and dates were typed out in a small font. The first item read "Murdock, Kevin," followed by yesterday's date. Nancy caught sight of her own name a few slots below his, but that didn't keep her attention long. Everyone's eyes followed Tina's slim finger to the top. Nancy couldn't believe she'd missed it. She stared at the name directly under Murdock's, scheduled for operation tomorrow night:

"Grey, Tina."

.

.

.

To be continued…

A/N: I'll post the next chapter sometime within the next two weeks (later rather than sooner, most likely). If you enjoyed this chapter, or if you loathed it, or if you feel only cold indifference toward it, please let me know with a comment! Reading them always makes me smile, even if it's only a word or two. It's just nice to know I'm not publishing my stories into a void.

Thank you for reading!