Night Terrors (35 page)

“Message received,” I said.

He nodded and then stood. “I need to get back to Nod. I’ll see you in a couple days.”

He turned and started to walk away.

“Sir?” I called.

He stopped and turned back to look at me.

“Yes?”

“It’s daytime. You can’t get to Nod now.”

He smiled. “Maybe
you
can’t.”

He began to turn away again, but then he stopped.

“One more thing. Make sure to leave here in…” He cocked his head to the side and a faraway look came into his eyes, as if he were doing some kind of internal calculation. “Precisely five minutes. That’s an order.”

Jinx and I exchanged puzzled glances, but when we turned to look at Sanderson again, he was gone.

 

Like the good little officers we were, we waited five minutes before getting up and going to the register to pay for our uneaten food. More people had filtered into the diner by now, and more than a few eyed our less-than-pristine clothes with disdain. I was too weary to care, and Jinx and I left.

As we walked down the sidewalk, enjoying the cool morning breeze, I thought of how solid the concrete felt beneath my feet, and I was glad the world was as it was. Humans have the best of both worlds, don’t we? Reality during the day, and an ever-changing playground at night when we dream. At least, for those of us who still can dream.

“I’m glad Sanderson’s OK,” I said, “but seeing him got me thinking…”

“If he could survive the explosion, perhaps the Fata Morgana did, too,” Jinx said.

“Yep.”

“A problem for another day.”

“Yep.”

We continued walking in silence for a time, and then I asked, “Is that exhibit still at the Art Institute? The one you went to yesterday?”

“You mean the Titian exhibit? Yes, it is.”

“Good. I think I’d like to go with you. That is, if you don’t mind seeing it again.”

Jinx looked at me in surprise. “I’d love to, but didn’t you promise Sanderson you’d rest?”

“I’ll meditate for a few hours first, OK?” I caught a whiff of myself. “
After
I take a shower.”

He smiled. “OK.”

I tried to smile back, but I couldn’t do it. As glad as I was that Sanderson was alive, I wished Russell was, too. It wasn’t as if I’d been in love with him or anything like that. Hell, we’d only known each other for a couple days. As adults, anyway. But he’d been a good guy, someone who’d been willing to risk his life to do what was right. And I had to admit there’d been a spark between us. Who knows what might have developed if he’d–

Ahead of us, a man walking a dog on a leash turned the corner and headed in our direction. The dog was a dachshund, and the man was Russell, dressed in civvies. I understood then why Sanderson had told us to leave the diner when he had. If we’d left any sooner or any later, we would’ve missed Russell.

There were a number of pedestrians on the sidewalk – most of whom were giving us plenty of space because of our disheveled appearance – and Russell didn’t see us at first. Bloodshedder detected us right away, though, and she barked to alert Russell. When he saw us, he looked almost panicked, but then he let out a long breath and relaxed.

We continued walking toward each other until the four of us were standing face to face. Well, in Bloodshedder’s case, face to ankle.

“This is awkward,” Russell said.

At first I was elated to see him, but that emotion was quickly replaced by anger.

“What, you mean the whole ‘I survived an explosion that leveled a building and wasn’t planning on telling Audra and Jinx’ thing?”

“That would be it. The people I work for thought it would be advantageous if everyone thought I was dead for a while.”

“And those people would be…?”

He looked at me for a moment, and I could tell he was debating what, if anything, to say.

“I can’t tell you their name, but I can tell you this much: you’ve heard their whispers.”

At first I didn’t know what he meant, but then it hit me. The voices that I heard whenever I passed through a Door. The voices that whispered to me, that had urged me to hurry, hurry when we were headed to Perchance to Dream.

Shaken, I said, “They’re the ones who rescued you.”

Bloodshedder let out a sharp back.

“And you, too,” Jinx said.

“Yes,” Russell said. “They pulled both of us out in the nanosecond before the blast occurred. But don’t ask me anything more. I shouldn’t have told you as much as I did.”

I wanted to stay pissed at him. After all, he’d intended to let me go on thinking he was dead. But despite everything, I was just too damn happy to see him. I leaned forward and gave him a peck on the cheek.

“I’m glad you’re OK.”

He smiled. “Likewise.”

Bloodshedder yipped, and I bent down and gave her a scratch behind the ear. “You, too,” I said, and was rewarded with a tail wag. I straightened and looked at Russell again.

“So what are you doing out on the street?” I asked. “Especially since you’re supposed to be pretending to be dead and all.”

He looked suddenly embarrassed. “Bloodshedder’s really hungry. There’s this Mexican place a few blocks over that serves this really spicy
huevos rancheros
that she likes.”

Bloodshedder barked in agreement and licked her chops.

Russell leaned close, as if to impart a secret. “She’s a really picky eater, and she gets incredibly grumpy when she’s hungry.”

“I can imagine.”

She scowled but then wagged her tail again.

“Jinx and I will keep your secret as long as you want us to,” I said.

Jinx nodded. “Of course.”

“I, uh, suppose this means we won’t be seeing much of you for a while,” I said, trying not to sound as disappointed as I felt.

“Oh, I don’t know. I might be able to sneak in a visit now and then. And who knows? Maybe another potentially apocalyptic disaster will occur and we’ll find ourselves working together again.”

I smiled. “It’s a date.”

Russell gave me a last smile, and Bloodshedder gave a last tail wag, and then the two of them continued on their way, and Jinx and I did the same.

After a few moments, Jinx said, “He’s a good man.”

I grinned. “Are you saying he’s good enough for your mommy?”

“No. I’m saying he’s good enough for my friend.”

I wanted to give the big galoot a hug, but instead I punched him on the shoulder. But not that hard.

He smiled.

“Do me a favor?” I asked.

“Sure.”

“Tell me who the hell Titian is.”

Jinx shook his head. “Titian was an Italian Renaissance painter born in 1485…”

 

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thanks to Lee Harris for helping me dream this book into existence, to Cherry Weiner for shepherding my flights of fancy, and to my wife Christine, for keeping the nightmares at bay.

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR 

Tim Waggoner is a novelist and college professor. His original novels include the Nekropolis series, 
Cross County
,
Darkness Wakes
,
Pandora Drive
, and 
Like Death
. His tie-in novels include the Lady Ruin series and the Blade of the Flame trilogy, both for Wizards of the Coast. He’s also written fiction based on 
Stargate: SG-1, Doctor Who, A Nightmare on Elm Street
, the videogame
Defender, Xena the Warrior Princess
, and others. He’s published over one hundred short stories, some of which are collected in 
Broken Shadows 
and 
All Too Surreal
. His articles on writing have appeared in Writer’s Digest, Writers’ Journal and other publications.

He teaches composition and creative writing at Sinclair Community College in Dayton, Ohio and is a faculty mentor in Seton Hill University’s Master of Arts in Writing Popular Fiction program in Greensburg, Pennsylvania.

A member of the Osprey Group

 

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To dream the impossible dream

 

An Angry Robot paperback original 2014

1

 

Copyright © Tim Waggoner 2014

 

Tim Waggoner asserts the moral right to be

identified as the author of this work.

 

UK ISBN: 978 0 85766 368 9

US ISBN: 978 0 85766 369 6

Ebook ISBN: 978 0 85766 370 2

 

Cover art by Amazing15

 

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means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or

otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

 

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by

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otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in

any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is

published and without a similar condition including this

condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

 

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and

incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination.

Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or

localities is entirely coincidental.