His words make me want to rip his clothes off. I feel around until I find the bottom of his shirt and then I sneak my hand underneath it, feeling his cold, but soft, skin, and his sculpted muscles.
“Fuck! Your hands are cold.” He inhales a sharp breath, his muscles tensing, and then he lets out a low laugh that sounds very close to a growl. Suddenly he jerks back and his eyes dart over my shoulder. “Run.”
“What?’ I say, but he’s shoving me forward, back toward the house that’s on the other side of the trees.
I stumble backwards as groups and groups of soaring figures ascend from the trees. They’re everywhere, their eyes reflecting against the snow and the ice like fireflies.
Alex’s arm snakes around me and he guides me behind him. “No matter what happens, make sure you run.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a knife and poises it out in front of him.
“What are you going to do—”
Before I can finish, he runs at them with the knife out. One steps forward, while the others open their mouths. The pale glow of the moon lights up the swirls and lines of their breaths as it fogs and laces around us like smoke. I duck to the ground as a cloud of it heads toward my face and envelops my body. An arctic chill sucks the breath from my lungs as I sink into the snow, no longer in control of my body.
I’m so cold and I can’t breathe.
The last thing I see is Alex’s body sinking lifelessly into the snow, then screeches envelop around me as a blanket of ice encircles my body, crushing my skin into my bones.
I’m dying, being smothered by the cold, and Alex is already dead.
I open my mouth and with every ounce of pain I’m feeling, I force out a scream that cuts through the night like a jagged blade.
I bolt upright in my bed, screaming at the top of my lungs and clutching at my blanket. Sweat drips from my forehead and trickles down my neck as my heart threatens to leap out of my chest. My gaze zips forward at a barrage of blinking eyes surrounding my room. They’re everywhere, so blinding I can’t tell where they’re coming from. The air is cold and I can feel a breeze engulfing my body.
I jump up, flailing my arms as I trip toward the door, but by the time I reach it, the yellow eyes are gone. All that’s there is the emptiness of my room and the darkness outside. I hurry over to the window, daring a peek at the parking lot outside. Most of the parking spots are filled and the lights on the carports are on. I can’t see anything; no yellow eyes… no monsters...
I flip the lights on and press my hand to my heart as I slide to the floor. I feel defeated and alone as I take in my limited surroundings; the single nightstand with a simple lamp and my empty bed where no one else has ever been.
Empty. It’s the one word that sums up my life.
Gripping on to the last of my will, I push myself to my feet. I need to try and get some answers; maybe then things will be a little easier. Heading out to the kitchen, I turn on the coffeemaker and then drop down at the computer desk in the corner of the dining room and open my laptop. I type in ‘realistic, reoccurring dreams.’ Links about physics pop up.
Even though it seems crazy, I click on a link and begin to read the article. “Reoccurring and very vivid dreams may be the window into future events that are going to happen. Or, some people believe that it may be a surfacing memory that a person has repressed as a coping mechanism.”
Are my dreams either of these things? Have they happened and I just can’t remember? Or are they going to happen? Sighing, I shut down the computer and get dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt. I pull on a coat, slip on my boots and then pour coffee into a stainless steel mug before heading out the door; feeling exhausted and emotionally drained.
I’ve been dreaming about the monsters for two months and I’m worn out. I just want a break from the images, and the feelings they manifest. It would be nice to maybe get an explanation, too.
I feel hung over and it’s my busy day, too; three classes and work. I’m sitting in Astronomy, half-alive with my eyes shut, an elbow propped against the table with my head resting against my palm. I’m just about to fall asleep when someone drops down in the chair beside me. The zap of electricity hits me at almost the same time the person sits and I jump in my seat as my eyes fly open.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Alex sets his book on top of the desk and smiles. “I thought I’d sit by you today, if that’s okay?”
I check over my shoulder, making sure there is no one behind me that he might be talking to. “Are you being serious?”
His eyebrows dip together as he shoves up the sleeves of his black shirt. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
I sigh, sitting up straighter. “Because I thought your nice-guy act would be an exclusive, one-time event.”
He seals his lips together, stifling a laugh. “Well, it’s not. Besides, Aislin isn’t here today and usually I cheat off her, so I thought I’d cheat off you instead.”
I shake my head as a smile slips through. “Whatever. You know the quizzes in this class aren’t multiple choice. There are questions that you have to answer in your own words.”
“I’ll just change a few words. No biggie.” He raises his hips to take out his phone from his pocket as it begins ringing with “Save me” by Unwritten Law as the ring tone. He checks the screen and then presses the side button until it shuts off before returning it to his pocket. “So how’s your day going?”
“Fine, I guess.” He’s being normal and it’s weird. Maybe he suffers from a mental illness too, because he is about as bi-polar as I am.
“You seem unsure.” He slants his head toward me, grinning. “I thought that was a pretty simple question?”
“It was,” I say, unzipping my jacket as the heat amid us intensifies. “I’m just a little out of it.”
“Tired?”
“Yeah, kind of.”
It becomes quiet and I find myself wishing we’d go back to arguing, just so I don’t have to endure the silence.
“Wasn’t class supposed to start like five minutes ago?” Twisting his wrist, he glances at his watch.
Kinking my neck, I confirm the time on the wall clock behind me. “Yeah, but Professor Sterling is generally fashionably late.”
Alex stares at the doorway as he deliberates something. “I say, if he’s not here in five minutes, we skip out and go do something else. I need a break anyway. We could go on a short-lived road trip.”
I start opening my notebook, but pause. “You want to skip out on class? With me?”
He shrugs, his gaze situating on me. “Yeah, why not?”
I shrug coolly, but, on the inside, I’m a nervous wreck. “Because you’d be with me.”
He looks a little bit guilty. “That doesn’t sound so bad. Think about it. You, me, coffee and an endless amount of road.”
I attempt to read him, but he’s a book full of blank pages. “Where would we go?”
He holds my gaze forcefully. “Where do you want to go?”
The possibilities are infinite and my mind begins to conjure up all kinds of ideas. “How about the beach? I’ve always wondered what the ocean looks like and how the sand would feel between my toes.”
He rubs his lips together, thoughtfully. “It feels nice.” A dark smile breaks through. “Especially, when you’re at a nudist beach and you can be completely naked.”
Something heats from inside, like I’m beginning to get embarrassed, so I say the only thing I can think of. “Yeah, but what happens when sand gets lodged in uncomfortable places.”
He snorts a laugh and smiles. It’s a real smile, too. One that doesn’t convey heaviness beneath it. “Good point.” He pauses. “So you’ve really never been to the ocean?”
I shake my head. “I’ve never left Wyoming. At least, I don’t think I have. I might have when I was a baby and still lived with my parents, before they died, but I…” I realize I’m rambling.
The guilt in his eyes magnifies. “What happened to your parents?”
My shoulders stiffen as the heaviness of the topic falls against my chest and crushes the oxygen out of me. I can barely breathe—barely think. “They died in a car accident.”
Frowning, he looks down at his watch again. “Who did you live with while you were growing up?”
I reply with as minimal disdain as possible. “My grandparents.”
There’s a hint of compassion on his face. “You don’t like them?”
I focus on the front of the classroom, wishing he’d stop talking about the subject because it feels like a knife being plunged into my heart. “No, they’re fine.”
He examines my face with disbelief. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”
I open my book and fan through the pages to distract myself from the pain. “It’s fine.”
His eyes explore my face, my eyes, my hands; like he’s trying to unravel my thoughts. Eventually, he relaxes and his mouth curves upward into a playful smile. “Should we go?”
Outside the window is a layer of white snow, covering the grass and parking lot. It looks like a winter-wonderland out of some fairy tale; a kingdom made of ice and snowflakes. “You seriously want to go on a road trip with me?”
He verifies it with a nod. “I seriously want to go on a road trip with you.”
My heart pounds inside my chest, enthusiastic and willing. There’s a pause. We turn heads, lock eyes, then start to rise to our feet, but Professor Sterling chooses that moment to come whisking in with a handful of tests.
Alex’s mouth curves into a lopsided grin. “Guess I’ll have to take a rain check.”
“I guess so.” Sighing, I lower back into the chair.
Professor Sterling has a briefcase in his hand, as well as the tests, and he sets everything on the podium in front of the classroom. He looks a little off today; his suit is wrinkled, his face is unshaved and his hair is a little shaggy. He appears grungy as if he’s travelled back through time to the 90’s. He stares at the whiteboard for the longest time, with his arms crossed and his chin propped on his fist. When he turns around, his eyes scan the classroom. It doesn’t seem like he’s even looking at us; more like he’s looking through us, as if we are nothing more than transparent statues.
“Today, I’m going to tell you a little story.” He walks up to the board and picks up a marker. The tip squeaks as he draws several lines across the board and then puts the cap on, before returning the marker to its place on the tray. “About a fallen star.”
I exchange a glance with Alex and he smiles, elevating his eyebrows. “I think someone’s had a little bit too much to drink today.”
“I don’t think he drinks,” I say, staring at the picture on the board. It’s drawn in blue with lines that shoot out from the end of a very sloppily drawn star.
Alex leans over the desk toward me. “Trust me; he does. I smelt it on his breath one day.”
I nod, but pick up my pen and take notes anyway.