In the darkest, quietest hour of the night, Dreamer was awakened to her bed shaking. Her first thought was of Aidriel, and she was seriously preparing to deck him in the face if he tried anything. But before she was fully awake, the rough feeling of a body climbing over her filled her with terror. The next one that climbed over was in such a hurry she was thrown right off the bed and onto the floor between it and the wall. She cried out.
It was pitch-black in the room, but lying facedown on the carpet, Dreamer could see gray and white movement out of the corner of her eye. If Aidriel was already awake, he made no sound, and she couldn’t hear anything until he slammed suddenly into the wall on the other side of the room. There were repeated thuds of something, possibly his head, striking the wall, and the shuffling of the sheets of his bed. He suddenly took a short, deep breath, as if he had been under water.
The strong smell of electrical burning hung in the air and something was hissing and sputtering. Dreamer turned her head as far as she could toward the wall and saw the feet of a Passer mere inches away. As if it could sense her notice, it paused in its movement to lean over, its face sweeping down close to hers. The wide empty eyes stared through her, the lips arching in a snarl. The ghost almost seemed to be taking deliberate, angry inhales. Closing her eyes, the phlebotomist got swiftly up, untangling herself from the blankets.
The Passers coming through the front wall and converging on the small area between Aidriel’s bed and the far end of the room were so numerous, Dreamer couldn’t see through their ghostly forms. The television and temperature unit under the window were sparking and smoking. The room was bitterly cold and she shivered, scrambling up onto the bed. The Passers shoved her forward, tumbling her to the floor again on the other side, by the nightstand and between the beds.
Dreamer was stunned and at first lay still, covering her face with her hands. She had never seen so many Passers before, neither had she been so harshly dealt with, besides when they scratched her at the hospital. She could hear Aidriel manage another gasp for breath, and realized he was probably being choked or smothered. It was frightening how deliberate and silent the ghosts were.
There were two more thumps against the far wall, and Aidriel managed to shout for her to run. But she had to help him; the Passers were out for blood.
Dreamer reached under the skirt of his bed, and her hand collided with a board of wood. She couldn’t get to him under it; she’d have to climb over. Without allowing herself to even think, she got up and let the Passers shove her onto the bed as they flowed forward. Clinging to the bedding, she reached over the side into the ghostly blur. Her hand groped and she held her breath, but she found fabric, clutched it, and pulled.
Aidriel rolled to the side, possible against his will, and Dreamer’s fingers lost their grasp. The angry spirits flung her back off the bed to the floor. In a fright, she got up and ran to the door, slamming into the wall and flicking on the light switch. Some of the Passers seemed startled by the sudden flood of light and withdrew, but the majority continued their attack, unbothered.
Looking across the foggy room, Dreamer was surprised to see the scrubs Aidriel had been wearing as pajamas lying in a heap on the carpet. She was afraid to draw close to help, but remembered she’d felt fabric when she grabbed onto him. The top supplies tub had been overturned on the floor, and his clothing was no longer inside it; even his shoes were missing. He must have sensed the attack coming and had gotten dressed in hopes of escaping.
Without another thought, Dreamer threw herself forward into the fray, yelling for the Passers to let go of Aidriel and let him breathe. To her surprise, the ghosts appeared startled by her. They rose to turn and stare, temporarily ceasing the assault. Had they never been directly addressed during previous attacks?
Gasping for air, Aidriel used the bed for support as he dragged himself to his feet. He fell back against the wall, bruised and scratched, holding his throat in pain. Dreamer found herself standing dumbly at the foot of his bed, watching all the angry ghosts that stared back, many of them finally speaking to curse at her. Aidriel brushed roughly past as he fled toward the door, fully dressed as she had thought, grabbing the car keys from the table as he went.
The Passers flew after him snarling, their hands reaching out, and though Dreamer called his name, he didn’t answer. She heard the door to the stairs at the end of the hall slam open and drift closed, then she hurriedly pulled on her socks and shoes, gathering everything she could carry.
Aidriel took the stairs two and three at a time, using the railing for support and leaping down to the landings. The jumps sent shockwaves of pain up his legs, but at this point, everything hurt. He didn’t have time to stop; his life depended on it. He wasn’t going to die tonight.
The Passers were pouring densely down the stairway after him, clogging the corridor with ghostly orbs and smoke. Some were hopping over the railing, landing just behind him as he ran. He couldn’t recall what floor he had been staying on, but it felt like twenty or thirty by the time he reached the ground floor, the groping hands of the spirits snagging at his shirt. Flinging open the door into the lobby, Aidriel threw himself forward pell-mell, the world a blur around him. He was gripping the car keys so tightly it hurt, but the adrenaline wouldn’t let up enough for him to do otherwise.
As he rushed by, Aidriel had an indistinct glimpse of the night clerk looking up from his desk, staring in shock at the sight before him. Aidriel wondered if the other man could see the Passers; either way it would be a strange spectacle.
It was cloudy and moonless outside, and Aidriel was temporarily confused to burst out under the dim lamppost. He couldn’t recall immediately where the car was, but when he ran toward it, he saw with a sinking feeling that there was already a handful of Passers standing in and around it. Pitching the keys at them in frustration, Aidriel wheeled to the right and ran blindly out along the street, his attention focused on the horizon. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing around him, and no one. He had to stay away from the town and its people; he had to run until he fell dead in exhaustion or the spirits gave up. Yielding or being caught wasn’t an option. He wanted to live tonight.
The bright headlights of a car fell on him from behind, and Aidriel darted across the road quickly enough to not be hit, the sea of Passers just steps behind. He thought he heard the vehicle stall when it passed into the mob of ghosts, but didn’t dare glance back. Before him was a trailer-home community, flanked on his left by another road, down which he ran as hard as he could. It was eerie and frightening that he could hear the footfalls of his pursuers, and some of them were screaming out words he couldn’t understand.
Up ahead, the headlights of a truck crested a hill, speeding brightly toward him. The horn in the darkness behind the orbs began blaring, and at the last moment, Aidriel turned and darted to the right. The Passers swarmed after him like a cloud of spirit bees, their long claws digging into his back and legs. Aidriel hadn’t run far enough to be past the trailer park and had to clear flower pots and scramble over a fence in his flight. He lost his balance and fell on the other side of the fence, instantly getting to his feet and futilely trying to shake off the ghosts. All he could hear was his own labored gasping and the sounds of their nails tearing his shirt and skin.
With a cry of frustration, Aidriel began to run again, throwing himself by force out of their grasp. He dashed past a pond and through the yard of a farmhouse alongside the community, mounting a small hill and dodging around a windmill. On the other side was a large, pitch-black field of young wheat that obstructed his moving legs and slowed him down. Aidriel could see the lights of the main town ahead, and altered his course to run at an angle in hopes of avoiding the streets, keeping on the move and out of the reach of the Passers. A thick grove of trees blocked his path and he had to go out of his way to circle it, forcing through a line of pine trees on the other side.
It was becoming tremendously painful to breathe and run, but he kept on. He ran as if he had been running his entire life, because if he didn’t, his life could end right here. His awareness of the ghosts began to become secondary to his conscious effort to suck in air and move his legs, one at a time, in the quickest succession he could muster. The pain within his chest began to overwhelm any pain outside of it, but he ran on.
Eventually Aidriel crossed the expansive field and hurdled a cement curb into the parking lot behind a theatre. High lampposts at intervals made it easier to see where he was, and his steps became more confident. The asphalt caused more shock to his feet and legs, but Aidriel couldn’t spare the energy to acknowledge it. He crossed the lot and a strip of grass, entering another huge parking lot in front of the Walmart. There weren’t many vehicles on account of the late hour, but he could see a handful of Passers milling about in the smoky yellow light. It didn’t take them long to notice the chase and it freshened Aidriel’s adrenaline to see them turn to head him off.
Moving with all possible force and drive, Aidriel weaved among the cars without stopping, his arms pumping, the sound of his steps drowned out by those of his chasers. Without hesitation, he dashed right through the Passers that stepped in his way. Their angry talons went through him with the force and pain of bullets, shaving off precious momentum. He stumbled and nearly fell, yet kept on the move, bashing his shoulders against the side mirrors of the cars he passed, continually off balance. One of the vehicles he brushed began to beep furiously in alarm. He dare not look back. He was too afraid and intent on escape to look back.
A Passer stepped into his path; a man with short pale hair and a dagger. It raised the knife at the right moment, and he couldn’t stop. The paranormal blade struck him in a perfect blow to the throat and instantly Aidriel’s feet flew out from under him. His vision went dark and he choked. He could feel himself falling for the briefest of seconds, then his head struck the pavement with a crack and he blacked out.
Aidriel regained awareness to the feeling of arms all around him, encircling his legs and chest, pulling in two different directions, holding him up at an angle. Blinking away the spots, he realized he was being dragged into a car. Dreamer had the back doors of the vehicle open and her arms around his chest, one hand in a fist and the other gripping her wrist. The Passers were holding onto his legs and were snarling and spitting furiously.
Too dazed to move or speak, Aidriel felt Dreamer release him with one arm to try and block the attacks of the ghosts that had come in through the other side of the car. She yelled out in frustration and swatted at them, then cradled the back of his head briefly. He heard her wiping her hand on her scrubs. When she put her arm around his chest again and resumed pulling, he could see blood all over her fingers.
“Stop it!” she screamed out. “Let go of him, you damned corpses!”
Aidriel could suddenly walk again; his aching legs touched the ground, straining to support him as he stood up, pulling away from Dreamer. He was seeing stars and in terrible pain, but could turn his back on the frothing Passers. He closed the car door on his companion even as she shouted in protest. Sliding into the driver’s seat, Aidriel shifted out of park and gunned the already-running engine, screaming out of the parking lot and onto the road. A van slammed on its brakes behind him and blasted its horn. The angry sound halted instantly when the Passers flooded into the street in pursuit.
“Your head is bleeding!” Dreamer said. It took considerable effort for her to pull the other back door closed before climbing into the front seat beside him. “You should let me drive!”
“You’d drive like a girl,” he answered, flooring the accelerator and watching the needle slide up the speedometer.
“I drove like a maniac to get to you on time!” she exclaimed.
“You should have driven the other direction!”
“Why? What would have happened to you if I had?”
“The point is nothing should happen to you.” Aidriel’s tone softened miserably. “This is my problem. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“It’s my problem now too,” Dreamer told him definitively.
“You just watch yourself,” Aidriel said after a pause, his capacity to think growing dull. “Keep yourself safe. That’s how I want you.”
Aidriel felt the hot sticky blood on the back of his head and winced at the accompanying headache that was washing forward through his skull like fire. He pushed past 65mph to 70, then 75; surely there was no way the Passers could catch up. But somehow there was a ghost standing in the middle of the road just over the top of the steep overpass above the turnpike. Aidriel slammed on the brakes, swerving to miss it and nearly colliding with the back end of a car in the oncoming lane. The other horn bleeped at him, and his side of the car ground against the concrete barrier wall with a painful screech. Wrestling the wheel, Aidriel managed to swerve back into the proper lane. He didn’t notice how Dreamer was gripping the dash for dear life, only letting go long enough to strap herself in.
Gunning the engine, Aidriel flew right through a stop sign, speeding by a small airport with a white-and-green-flashing beacon. Dreamer stared out the window, then turned in her seat to look back, her head tilting so her hair briefly brushed his shoulder.
“I don’t see any,” she told him, though both knew that it didn’t mean they were out of the woods. The road continued further out into the country, winding around a mostly blind curve with pine trees and dead-ending into another street. Without a thought, Aidriel turned left, following the short stretch back to State Route 108, turning right. He continued to drive in excess of 70mph, unwilling to risk slowing enough for another attack, and turning the brights on to see further down the road, ignoring when other vehicles flashed for him to turn them off.
Dreamer divided her attention between their surroundings and Aidriel. The cut on the back of his head was still hemorrhaging, though less than before, and he was still panting heavily, his limbs shaking with stress and fatigue. Digging through the glove compartment, the phleb found a wad of napkins, which she held to the back of Aidriel’s head. She wanted to tell him to breathe easier, to try and relax so his heart would slow down and his cut would clot. She wanted to tell him to pull over somewhere so she could take care of him; so he could stop shaking and rest; so she could take over the wheel. But she couldn’t because they weren’t far enough away yet.
Aidriel didn’t acknowledge her; neither did he take his eyes from the road ahead, barely slowing at another stop sign at a T-intersection. He hesitated, and Dreamer said, “Left.”
With a spin of the wheel, he turned and hit the gas again. Dreamer drew her legs up so she was half-kneeling in her chair, her weight leaning against her arm on the back of Aidriel’s seat while she kept pressure on his head. Her cell phone buzzed in her pocket, and she instinctively reached for it, but changed her mind and ignored it. She knew that it was one of two people at this hour, and she couldn’t speak to either at the moment.
Aidriel allowed the car to slow to the speed limit; his heaving was beginning to calm. It was a small miracle that the automobile and the phone in Dreamer’s pocket had not been destroyed by the electromagnetic radiation caused by the Passers. It must be one of those strange occurrences Williams had mentioned about the ghosts doing things just to keep them guessing.
But Dreamer was already guessing. She was only now awake enough to let what had happened sink in, and she still wasn’t sure entirely what had transpired. She wondered if Aidriel realized that he had very nearly driven off without her. Perhaps he wasn’t acting as selfishly as it seemed; he could have thought of protecting her. Maybe that was why he was dressing to leave. He must have somehow known the Passers were coming. But who could blame him for acting only on self-preservation? His life was at risk, not hers.
She was just infinitely glad he had left the keys on the ground beside the car; perhaps it had been intentional. It was fortunate she had caught sight of him crossing the field in the distance, thanks to the ghostly cloud that followed him. Otherwise, she might not have driven in the right direction, and if she hadn’t, by now he would be lying in a gory mess in that Walmart parking lot, dead.