I lingered on the edge of sleep for several minutes before opening my eyes. My stomach churned as I remembered the newest death. I curled into a ball under the covers.
Why wouldn’t the dreams just stop already? I’d run like the visions showed me. Maybe too late, though. The face of the man from the mall surfaced in my mind. His warm eyes looked gentle and amused, not malicious like the others. But I knew better than to trust them. I wrapped my arms around my knees. There was nothing gentle about thethingschasing me. Every memory followed the same pattern. I ran from something that terrified me, the “something” exposed itself as a dog, turned man. The dogs—always a group of them—possessed large sleek heads, intelligent eyes, vicious teeth, and claws, which they put to use. After changing forms, they always talked about choosing. Choosing what? The way they acted and spoke, I guessed they wanted me to choose one of them. But to what purpose?
If I didn’t kill myself, they tried forcing me to choose. The methods they used...I shuddered. I wasn’t sure whose method was worse. Theirs or mine. In all my past lives I died horribly. I thought I understood the messages of the dreams—run. But if that was it, the dreams should have stopped. Instead, they’d changed. Two now had felt like a memory even though I hadn’t merged with anyone. The two about babies.
Last night’s second dream made my need to run sound like there was more at stake than just my death. Not that my death wasn’t important enough to keep my feet moving. That woman made it sound like I didn’t really have a choice.
If I hadn’t connected with any of the women, why would it feel like a memory? My brows rose as I realized whom I overlooked. The infants in the first unique dream. Of course. Six of them just like the six variations of past lives I kept dreaming about. In the first unique dream, they hadn’t been born; and in the second, the newborn hadn’t yet experienced her gift, the things chasing her, or much of anything, really. Perhaps that’s why I hadn’t connected.
So, if those two dreams were still memories, then what that woman said scared me. Would the world truly burn if those dog-men caught me? I shuddered remembering the feeling of the flames consuming my flesh. Thankfully, the searing pain had been cut short.
I stopped that thought and with wide eyes froze under the covers. A gentle hand had soothed me. The kiss. Had it been real? I tried to breathe as quietly as possible as I listened for any strange noises in the room. All I could hear was my own heartbeat. Scrunching my eyes for a moment, I braced myself for the worst. I took a deep breath and quickly sat up, looking around the room.
Everything remained as it had when I’d gone to sleep. The outside door remained securely bolted, and the bathroom door still stood open. I let out a large shaky sigh.
That touch, like the dreams, had felt real yet it hadn’t been a part of either dream. Rather, it was a fragment of the shift between them. That was one of the difficulties with sleep deprivation. The confused haziness between reality and imagination was hard to figure out. Well, that plus the headaches...
Flopping backwards, I scrubbed my hands over my face. Maybe my first inclination to question my sanity had been right. What if all of this was really in my head? I laughed at myself. Of course it’s in my head. But what if it was all just my imagination? That guy in the mall might have really just wanted the bathroom. And my physical reaction to him? Well, he was really good looking, and he had an accent. Who wouldn’t suffer a little tummy tickle over that?
What did I really have as solid proof that something was out there? I cringed. I didn’t have any. That just furthered my insanity theory. My poor Mom. And school. Exams were in a few weeks. I’d skipped so much school my grades were in the gutters. I had enough credits to graduate at semester if I passed my current class load. If I went back now and asked for help, I could still do it. Maybe. I’d probably still end up in a padded room for a while. But, the details of the dreams, and my ability to recall everything—touch, taste, smell—bothered me. It seemed so real. What if all those feelingswerememories? If I went back home, would I be setting myself up for another non-choice...where I sacrificed myself?
With a sigh, I flipped back the covers and got out of bed. No matter what I chose, I needed to get dressed first. Padding across the carpet, I stepped into the bathroom to check my clothes. Dry, but stiff.
Dressing slowly, I mulled over my options. Home called to me. I had very little money left and nowhere to go. But I needed to be sure. I didn’t want to go back and bring trouble with me. This was a big enough town. I could find a job and wait out a few weeks. See if the dreams got better.
Gripping my jeans to pull them up, I felt a crinkle in the front pocket. Odd. I hadn’t felt anything when I washed them. Something dug into my hip when I tugged them up the rest of the way.
I reached into the pocket, and my fingers brushed something. Hard plastic. I dug deeper. Paper. A chill swept through me as I wrapped my hand around the items and pulled them out. I stared at the five neatly folded hundred dollar bills, a note, and a cell phone lying in my open palm for a moment before I instinctively dropped them on the tan bathroom tile. Nothing was mine.
The hand wiping the tear from my face...
Icy fear pierced my stomach, and I sat heavily on the toilet seat. With shaking fingers, I tentatively picked up the note. Each crackle as I unfolded the hotel stationary sent a shiver down my spine. The paper had nothing on it but a phone number. No. No way! How had he found me again? Could it be the same guy? I crumpled the paper and threw it in the garbage along with the phone.
The dreams. People chasing me. Itwasn’tin my head. I stared at the solid proof that it was real. I couldn’t go back home. I needed to keep running. Move. I eyed the money. I wasn’t about to use the phone to call that number, but the money...I’ll be taking that, thank-you-very-much!
Wasting no time, I gathered my things. At least, I’d showered and slept. Looking around to make sure I wasn’t forgetting anything, I spotted stationary on the bedside table. The pen lay beside it. Lifting the pad to the light, I saw the indentations of the phone number that had been in my pocket. Of course, I already knew someone had been in my room but seeing the used pad of paper gave me the shakes again.
Run!
I didn’t look back.
Chapter Three
When I stepped outside the hotel, the chilled air slapped some sense into me; and I schooled my terror-filled expression. I couldn’t doubt myself any longer. Not even slightly. The dreams had continued after my discovery for a reason. I had lifetimes of wisdom in me. I just needed to remember it all. Remembering would help me survive. But to remember, I needed a safe place to sleep...I needed a lot of it. Where though? A public place would be good. A place where moaning in my sleep wouldn’t be too out of the ordinary. Somewhere low cost. A homeless shelter? I’d never been to one in real life and hoped they offered beds like in the movies.
Decided, I hailed a cab. The driver let me know about an overflow shelter where I’d have the best luck in winter months. After showing the cabbie I could pay, he took me there but dropped me off a few blocks away. I didn’t think it would look good if I arrived there in a taxi.
I managed two nights before I admitted to myself I’d made the wrong decision. All of the dreams—each memory—depicted hellish nightmares of brutal past deaths, further driving into me the need to run. I still didn’t have a destination. I just needed to keep moving.Theywere closing in. I would die.
Though I’d slept every chance I got, it felt like I’d stayed awake since I left the hotel. Hyped up on caffeine, I caught another bus. This time going south. I didn’t pay attention to the destination, nor did I make small talk with sweet old ladies.
On the outside, anyone looking at me would see a calm, sleepy girl. Inside, I twitched and jittered; I moaned and cried as I remembered all the slow tiny cuts from the night before. It had taken a week to die. In that dream, they hadn’t meant to kill me...her...us...whoever. A past version of one of the others like me had pretended to be more alert and resilient than she had actually been. When they’d realized they’d gone too far, it’d been too late.
* * * *
The ride left me in a small town with no motel.
I cast my eyes in every direction trying to decide my next move when I spotted an old iron support bridge just down one of the side roads. Its metal skeleton blended with the leafless branches on the banks surrounding it. Trudging in that direction, I kept alert for someone following me.
