Welcome to the Dream (A Celeste Cross Book, #1) (20 page)

She wanted to ask him what
was going on, maybe even plead with him to get on his radio to
check that Jack was okay, but she knew enough not to interrupt. She
was an ordinary, simple little civilian, nothing more than a
freelance programmer. He was a soldier, and this was his
world.

She sat there, feeling her
belly churn, her skin tighten, and her mouth dry up. The raw,
classic symptoms of fear, and she didn't need to feel her heart
reverberating in her ears and her chest pushing forward with
shallow breaths to underscore that fact. She didn't try to control
those sensations though – she didn't swallow or take a deliberate
deep breath. No, because over the years she'd come to understand
fear. That old saying
‘the only thing to fear is fear itself’
was wrong. You didn't fear
fear, you understood it. You had to appreciate it had a purpose.
Fear was just your body kicking into gear, getting ready to run or
fight, getting ready to save you from whatever dangerous situation
arose. Sometimes you got frightened at the wrong things, and then
you acted to reduce your fear. But while you were sitting on a
chopper with the prospect of a deadly demon fighting an entire army
of soldiers outside, then fear was justified. The quick beat of her
heart and the sound of her breath would help her to move as fast as
she could. So as Celeste sat there, she let her mouth become as dry
as it wanted, she let her stomach kick around and twitch as much as
it felt like it had to, and she just waited.

Suddenly McDougall stiffened
up, twisting his shoulders and bracing as he brought his gun up in
a snap.

She twisted towards him,
placing a hand on the seat next to her, and angling his way. He let
out a short and sharp breath.

He twitched his head from
side-to-side as if he was watching something fast enough to move
from one side of his vision to the other.

‘
Stay here,’ he growled as he
stepped forward from the chopper, jumping off, the sound of his
boots muffled by the thick grass of the clearing they'd landed
in.

Celeste pushed herself up,
racing to the front of the chopper, locking a hand on the door and
staring out at him.

He was stalking forward; she
could see his form clearly in the bright night, his body lit by the
silvery light of the moon above.

She also saw something else
darting between the trees on the other side of the clearing. It was
quick, and even though she'd only seen them a handful of times, she
instinctively knew it had to be a Yaoguai. Her fingers locked in
position around the door, freezing and clamping with such ferocity
that to remove them she would have to pry them off one by
one.

She stared at McDougall, her
breath stopping in her chest.

She knew what was going to
happen next, long before the Yaoguai snapped forward, jumped high,
and pushed its way right over McDougall's head.

The Scotsman bucked
backwards, bringing his assault rifle up, trying to aim at it,
shooting as he did, bullets spraying everywhere. Not a single one
of them struck home.

Celeste planted a hand over
her mouth, fingers digging into her lips.

McDougall was quick, and he
ducked to the side, hand planting on the ground and pushing himself
as he rolled, dodging the Yaoguai's tail as it ran towards him. He
still had hold of his gun, and had his finger rammed on the
trigger, bullets never stopping as they shot from the muzzle. The
Yaoguai was too quick. The way it moved was almost elegant in its
speed and precision. It looked like it was made for whatever it was
doing – for twisting through the air, for plunging over the grass,
for sprinting, for flipping, for somersaulting.

McDougall ducked again, the
forked tail whistling by his face, but in another second it changed
direction, flipped around, and collected him on the shoulder.
Though the move didn't look as if it could be that hard, it flung
the man backwards almost five meters, and he landed roughly on the
grass, skidding to a halt underneath one of the spruces.

Celeste now screamed, but
she didn't stop there. She pushed herself from the helicopter,
stumbling to the ground, and running forward.

Turn towards
the dark.
She commanded
herself. She'd always turned towards the dark in her dreams. That's
how she'd overcome her nightmares. Whenever something had chased
her, whenever some horrible creature or monster had threatened to
consume or kill her, she'd always turned towards it. She didn't run
away; if you run away, it would just chase you again some other
night. Face it, overcome it, recognize what it was, and you'd
finally be free of it.

Yet this wasn't a dream;
this was reality. The monster she was about to run towards was not
some aspect of herself, not some vision she'd conjured up from her
mind. The Yaoguai was vicious, it was dangerous, and she knew it
was capable of killing her with frightening ease.

That didn't stop Celeste
from running forward.

The thing pounced in a giant
leap, slamming its body down on top of McDougall. She saw his feet
twitch to the side as his body bucked under the weight. His hands
latched onto the Yaoguai, flesh scrabbling against the creature's
blue form as he tried to push it off.

Within seconds, McDougall's
movements slackened off.

Celeste put on a burst of
speed. As she sprinted towards it, stumbling through the long dark
grass but never stopping, the Yaoguai snapped up. She didn't even
have to get that close to it for it to scramble off McDougall. The
nearer she got, the more it backed off. It started to give out the
most frightened keening cry too.

‘
Get away from him,’ she screamed
at it.

It reacted to her voice with
another horrible, piercing cry, and began to back off, circling
past McDougall, its tail twitching high, the rounds of its
shoulders rolling, its body arched, and tense.

‘
Get away from him,’ she screamed
again.

This time the demon reacted.
It twisted to the side, turned, and began to run, heading into the
forest. It was frantic, its claws scrabbling over the dead pine
needles underneath it.

By the time she reached
McDougall, the Yaoguai was out of sight, and she couldn't even see
a trace of its electric blue, smoking energy any more. It was just
gone.

She dropped to her knees
next to McDougall, staring down at him.

Her heart was in her mouth,
her hands slicked with sweat.

Don't be dead.
Don't be dead.
She
pleaded, thoughts racing.

He wasn't dead.

He shifted on the ground,
letting out a sharp, heavy groan. In a second, it turned into a low
laugh.

‘
Are you okay?’ she asked
quickly.

McDougall let out a harsh
moan. Pushing himself into a seated position and clapping a hand to
his chest, he tried to massage through his combat vest.

‘
Thanks,’ he said after a moment,
and then he got to his feet. He stumbled.

Celeste latched a hand onto
his arm, and tried to steady him, but it was very hard considering
how large he was. She teetered back on her feet, locked her knees,
and pushed into him until he could stand steady.

His hand went to his side,
and he pulled out a handgun quickly. She looked at it, and
carefully noted where it was pointing. It was locked on the ground
and a little to the left, directed mostly towards the forest, but
still, it wasn't that far from being pointed at her.

‘
You dropped your assault rifle
over there.’ She indicated behind her with a flick of her head.
‘It's in the long grass.’

He moved away from her,
still swaying slightly, heading to where she indicated, and grabbed
at his assault rifle, slinging it over a shoulder.

He motioned towards the
helicopter with a flick of his head.

She silently followed, but
kept close to him, not because she was afraid, but because she was
worried about how much he was swaying. She would have offered him a
hand, but one look at the massive Scotsman told her he wasn't the
kind to accept assistance from a petite freelance
programmer.

They reached the helicopter,
but it was slow going, and when they finally did, McDougall
practically collapsed just inside the doorway, breathing
heavy.

‘
Is there anything I can do?’ She
stood close to him as she spoke, wanting to be there in case he
fell forward. He still had his gun in his hand, and she figured he
could shoot himself if he wasn't careful.

‘
There's a med kit, just up the
front of the chopper. It's got a couple of syringes in it. Get the
green ones.’ McDougall shrugged towards the cockpit.

Without another word, she
made her way into the cockpit, and rummaged around until she found
the first-aid kit. She brought it forward, opened it with a click,
and hunted around in the darkness until she recognized the right
syringe. She brought it to him.

McDougall rested his handgun
next to him on the floor of the chopper, then wrestled up one of
his sleeves. ‘Ever given an injection?’ he asked
abruptly.

‘
No.’

He reached out, took the
syringe, and then with a shaking hand, pressed it into his own
flesh, discharging the contents into his body. She winced. Pulling
it out, he let it tumble to the ground.

‘
Are you okay?’ she asked after
an intense moment.

‘
Alive.’ He returned his gaze to
the dark world outside, brought up his gun, and held it firm in his
grip. ‘If we make it through tonight, that is.’

Celeste bristled at his words,
and she turned to look outside too. ‘Are we going to wait here
until it comes back?’

McDougall took a moment, and
then ticked his head to the side. ‘I don't think it's coming back,
love, I think you've frightened the hell out of it.’

‘
What about Jack? What about the
rest of your team? Are they okay? Should I find them?’

McDougall shook his head. ‘I
have no idea, and, I'm not about to radio them; they'll get
distracted. But I'm in no position to go and help
either.’

His words sat heavily with her,
and sank right through her stomach. She hadn't known Jack long, and
yet somehow the prospect of losing him was a grief-filled one. ‘Is
there something I can do?’

McDougall looked at her slowly.
‘I shouldn't let you go.’ He acknowledged with a nod.

‘
Look, I'm no risk to anyone. I'm
not going to run off. If I can help them, shouldn't I—’

McDougall nodded towards the
door, and he held out his handgun. ‘You know how to use one of
these?’

She looked down at the gun,
taking it very reverently and carefully. She shook her
head.

‘
Right, then I guess I'm coming
with you.’ He pushed himself to his feet, and he swayed
erratically. She jumped up next to him, locking an arm around his
waist, and securing him in place. Once again, it was bloody hard,
as the guy was massive and built like a wall of granite. She
stopped them from falling over. He took his gun back, and then
grumbled that this was suicide.

The two of them set out. It
was slow at first, but as time wound on, McDougall started to get
stronger. Celeste wondered whether it was the effect of whatever
was in the syringe. She had no idea what a Yaoguai did to a person,
beyond the fact it tried to absorb their life force. Exactly what
had been in that syringe, she had no idea though. It's not as if
you could have life force as an injectable. Maybe it was
adrenaline, something to force McDougall's body to get on with it,
to push past the exhaustion.

Celeste hoped it would be
enough, and she hoped they would be quick enough to find the rest
of the team before the other Yaoguai did.

Jack.
She thought
simply.

Jack West

They were locked down,
pinned against a tall cliff face. Squire had found Peterson's team,
but a fat lot of good it had done them. They'd been overrun. When
Jack had thought there'd only been three Yaoguai, a fourth had
pounced their way. The fourth one had surprised them all, pushing
into them, corralling them against the cliff face. Now everyone was
running out of bullets.

As soon as they did, Jack
knew what would follow. He'd seen it, but from a distance. The
Yaoguai would press in. It would be like a feeding frenzy, like
sharks and a school of fish. With no resistance, the Yaoguai would
jump into the feast.

No single member of his or
Peterson's team began to scream or shudder or shake; they all dealt
with their fear. They were pressing on to the last, hoping to win
this even though the situation had turned against them.

‘
Get up behind that rock,’ he
screamed at Ami. Ami was half-Vietnamese, half-Japanese, and had a
lithe, nimble body. When she wanted to move, she was quick about
it.

Jack slammed himself to the
side, just as a massive branch sailed through the air. He pressed
himself into the rock, shunting his hands over his head as the
branch shattered behind him, sending splinters of wood cascading
against his back, shoulders, and head.