The Dream Hopper (Those Whom the Gods Wish to Destroy Book 2) Read online

  "Who are you?" he shouted.

  "Didn't you just hear what I said, pal? I'm a friend. Don't you want a friend?"

  "Friend?"

  "I'm not like those idiots outside your window. We can leave this place together, Timmy."

  "Tim," he said, wiping his swollen eyes. "I hate being called Timmy."

  "Okay, Tim," I said, looking around. The room really was empty. "We're going to get out of here. Are you ready?"

  Tim stood and warily stared at me. For a moment, I thought he'd return to the corner and resume the fetal position. Instead, he nodded and briskly walked to the doorway with only a brief glance in my direction. His sudden eagerness worried me a bit. For now, I figured it was working out in my favor.

  The hallway morphed into a much wider area. The worn wooden planks were now marble tiles. Each door had a number and a small window. Tim was moving too quickly to give me a chance to peek inside. Judging by the gurneys and trays full of needles and loose pills, we must have stumbled into a hospital.

  No matter how fast I ran, Tim was always several paces in front of me. His unnatural speed quickened tenfold when the chanting started to echo down the hallway. Hundreds of fists pounded against the doors with so much force, I expected them to collapse at any moment. Tim had become a tiny spec in the endless hallway and would have disappeared entirely if I had lost focus.

  The lights dimmed and flashed a bright red. This caused the madmen to howl in-between their chanting like a pack of crazed monkeys. I had no choice but to continue my sprint, even though the increase in my speed didn’t bring Tim any closer.

  One of the doors swung open, soon followed by another. The inhabitants seemed to catch on quickly, doubling their blows against the doors. As more broke free, I continued sprinting while dodging as many of the escapees as possible. A clawed hand managed to grasp my sleeve. I swung with all my strength and planted my fist into his jaw. He released as two others reached out to grab me. Their chant had turned into a cacophony of grunts and howls.

  "Tim!" I shouted. The echo was deafening.

  A group closed in on me. I threw my weight and smashed the nearest into the wall. A pair of hands snatched me by the shirt. I slipped out of the grasp, planting my heel into a face as it readied to sink its teeth into my ankle. Free from their grasp, I quickened my pace through the mass, madly swinging my fists.

  They shrank away from the violent display in fear. I cursed and spat, continuing to trudge down the packed hallway. Their vast numbers were no match for my clamor. Occasionally, one gathered the courage to stand and lunge toward me, but I had no trouble overpowering them singly. It didn't take long for them to start coming two at a time, then three, then all.

  The entire hallway had enveloped me. I pounded my fists into the backs of their heads to no avail. Just as I had given up all hope, the ceiling opened right on top of me. Two hands grabbed my wrists and pulled me up with incredible strength. The madmen wouldn't let go, holding me down while the two hands pulled. I could feel my arms about to pop out of their sockets, and I wildly kicked my feet, gradually freeing myself from their grasp.

  I noticed the night sky as my body collapsed in exhaustion, planting my face onto the hard rooftop as Tim closed what appeared to be a hatch. The cries down below cut off the moment he closed it. I took a second to collect myself, breathing in heavy gulps of air. The cold numbed my cuts and bruises. Tim silently stood over me.

  "Thanks," I said, brushing myself off as I rose to my feet, still sore all over.

  "We made it," he muttered, then repeated the same words louder before breaking into unrestrained laughter.

  "Yeah," I said, trying to muster a laugh. It hurt to smile.

  "Do you have any idea how long I was in that hospital? It feels like my whole life," he said, leaning over the rooftop. I stood next to him and looked down at the dark streets.

  "Are you sure we're safe?" I asked.

  "I don't know. We should keep moving."

  Without warning, he leaped across the rooftop. The gap had to be at least twenty feet. I didn't think it'd be possible for me to make that in a single bound. Unfortunately, I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter.

  "Coming?" he called out.

  I took a deep breath and jumped. I experienced the brief sensation of floating in the air as I glided across the gap. I expected a graceful fall, only to end up landing on my knees, though it was painless compared to my other wounds. Tim seized my shoulder and forcefully guided me to the edge. The next leap was simple enough.

  We continued to glide from rooftop to rooftop for some time. Tim impeccably made each jump, but I often stumbled my landings. When I thought we were about to stop all this monotonous hopping around, he quickened his pace. I turned around just as the chanting restarted.

  "We're almost there," Tim shouted above the demons howling for his death.

  He eventually came to a sudden stop, plunging half his arm into the rooftop. By the time I landed next to him, he had already opened up the next hatch. This one had a ladder. I climbed down into the dark hole after him, unable to see more than an inch in front of me. Somehow, the hatch closed on its own. This didn't mute our pursuers. The entire tunnel started to violently shake. I hastened my descent.

  "They're going to tear this place apart," Tim shouted.

  "Any idea where this place is?" I asked.

  "My home.”

  My feet eventually touched solid ground. The pathway ahead was dimly lit enough to reveal a staircase. Tim didn't seem to be in any rush. The pounding had become a slight tremor, and the chanting a low murmur. After climbing down a few steps, only a thick silence remained. I didn’t hear so much as a footstep. The soundless vacuum seemed wholly unnatural.

  The winding staircase was another never ending pathway. It was so narrow, I couldn't spread my arms out more than a few inches to my side. The cement walls were prickly and damp, and I noticed drops of dark water leaking from the ceiling. Upon closer inspection, the liquid had a viscous quality. It left a moldy, almost ancient smell.

  I felt my fingers start to sink into the walls like a soggy sponge. Tim didn't seem to notice the sudden change, though he quickened his pace yet again. I wished we could have gone faster; the staircase and its wet walls were far more sinister than the savages above us.

  "We're almost there," Tim said. "Just another minute."

  I would have started to count right there if I hadn't heard the sound of footsteps. Hundreds of them. Their chanting soon followed.

  We stopped short in front of a small door. Tim fumbled around with the handle, visibly panicked, and then shoved his hands into his pockets. He pulled out a key and jammed it into the keyhole. The footsteps were close.

  Tim opened the door and threw himself inside. I swiftly followed, slamming the door behind me. The room looked almost identical to the one in which I had originally found Tim, except this room had another door and a balcony. I walked toward it and peered over the edge: nothing but a bottomless void.

  "We need to seal it shut," Tim said, pacing around the room in a stupor.

  He searched around the balcony, while I decided to check the next room. The moment my hand touched the knob, Tim rushed across the room

  "You can't go in there!" he shouted. Before I could open my mouth to protest, fists pounded on the entrance door.

  "We can't stay here," I said. "It’s that or the balcony. Are you going to tell me it’s safer to jump?"

  "Yes," he replied coldly. A clawed hand managed to break through the entrance door. Then another, and another.

  "Don't be stupid," I scolded, seizing Tim by the arm. "I swear it’s safer in the other room than it is out here. Trust me, Tim."

  "No," he growled, slapping my hand away. "I'm not going to run anymore. Let them in."

  The door collapsed from the weight of dozens of bodies. The maniacs poured in, flailing around and tripping over each other. Tim struck the first to lunge at us in the face. I grabbed the nearest by the back of its
neck and slammed his skull into the wall. He gnashed his teeth and sunk his jagged fingernails into my arm. I hurled him into the crowd, knocking the others down like a row of pins. My sleeve was already soaked in blood.

  The room was filling up quickly. At the rate they were piling inside, it'd be full in mere moments. I took advantage of the distraction to enter the other room. It was a matter of biding time. This was going to end soon, for better or worse.

  I peered inside. It was extremely dim, but I could tell the room was much larger. I stepped inside to lure a few of our assailants. The second I entered the doorway, it slammed shut behind me. The knob wouldn’t even budge.

  "Damn it," I shouted, pounding on the door. "Tim!"

  The room lit up. I turned around in alarm, expecting some kind of hostile entity. Instead, I found a wall decorated with pictures and a floor littered with rotting corpses. The buzzing flies were even louder than the commotion outside. The bodies were decayed beyond recognition. Except for their faces. Hollowed eyes and gaping mouths looked up in agonizing horror.

  I inspected the pictures. Each depicted a gruesome murder—strangulation, bludgeoning, and stabbings. Countless stabbings. The victims were caught in the midst of their death throes. And Tim was in every picture, eyes wide with joy, lips taut in ecstasy.

  The screams outside were no longer crying out for blood. They were crying: "Help! Save me! Please! Don't do this!" A stream of blood oozed under the door. It flowed so quickly, I was up to my ankles in seconds.

  And as quickly as it flooded the room, it subsided as the door opened. Tim, red from head to toe, gazed at me, knife in one hand and severed head in the other. He chuckled and stepped forward, dropping his trophy but still brandishing his weapon.

  "You weren't supposed to see that," he said, seizing me by the throat. He lifted me off my feet with tremendous strength. I beat on his wrist for naught. It was like trying to break a steel bar.

  "Tim," I hissed. He tightened his grip, trudging through the mass of bodies on his way to the balcony.

  "I told you not to go in there," he said. "Just who the hell are you anyway? I don't remember you from the hospital."

  Tim dangled me over the edge of the balcony. I clutched his wrists and blindly kicked. He sneered, bringing his knife to my belly. I brought my knee up into his elbow, causing the knife to slash the arm holding me. He released his grip, though I hadn't released mine. As we fell, I managed to grab hold of the balcony with one hand, holding Tim with the other.

  "I got you," I shouted, looking down at the gaping void below us.

  The strain from trying to pull our weight with one hand was making me sweat. I could feel my grip slipping. I was about to shout at Tim, to tell him to try to climb over me and onto the balcony. Before I could utter a word, I felt a sharp pain and cold metal in my thigh. It was too much to bear. As another pain shot through my leg, we started to fall.

  "Die!" Tim shrieked between bouts of laughter, slashing the air with his bloody knife.

  During the whole descent, the madman cackled and screamed, swinging his weapon in a violent stupor. Even when his body gradually flickered into oblivion, I could still hear his mad laughter. It was the last thing I heard before touching the ground.

  The impact was softer than a pile of feathers. Could he have truly killed me? I checked my wounds. Though the cuts had disappeared with the dream fully dispersed, the pain in my leg lingered for a few more moments.

  Chapter 3:

  Angela

  I found myself in the middle of a spring garden full of pink flowers in the backyard of a light blue house. The flowers’ petals fluttered and seemed to dance from a gentle breeze. I took broad steps, careful not to tread on the flowers, but the back of my right heel clumsily crushed one of the stems. To make up for my pathetic attempt at caution, I straightened it and left it leaning against the nearest flower. It held for two seconds before swaying to the weaker side. I snatched the stem’s bottom mid-fall, only to cause it to snap in two.

  Whether an ill omen or the inability to apply my hands to anything delicate, I thought it best to leave the flowerbed then. I approached the house, brazenly peered through the screen door, and found the interior empty. My destination was a few blocks away, so there was no use investigating this location further.

  I felt warm and snug from merely crossing the street, which was full of passersby, all of whom traveled in couples; men and women of varying ages, holding hands in deep conversation. A pair of birds nestled on a tree branch, as much life in their chirps and whistles as in the people’s chattering. Everyone was smiling. When I gazed up at the crisp blue sky, I expected the sun to be smiling, too.

  More information about my destination would’ve been helpful, but I didn’t dare interrupt the surrounding bliss. Besides, wandering around aimlessly appealed to me. Without any sign of immediate danger, no one could castigate me for taking the long route. I walked onto the sidewalk as a pair of bicyclists raced past in jovial laughter. The couple in front of me spoke as they held tightly to their dogs’ leashes. A young corgi playfully nipped at a beagle’s neck, causing it to shake its floppy ears and bark. One of the owners mumbled something about puppy love after a bout of laughter.

  By the third block, my excursion started to lose its enchantment. The happy couples reminded me that I was neither welcomed nor unwelcomed, more akin to a ghost than these phantoms. Best stick to my task.

  It wasn’t long before I found the dreamer. She sat on a porch, reading a book on her rocking chair while puffing away at a cigarette. She flicked ash into the tray on a nearby white wicker footrest and flipped a page. I walked across the front lawn, slowing my pace as my courage drained for reasons unknown. The woman brushed a strand of hair from her eye and marked my approach with a smile from the corner of her mouth.

  “Morning,” she said.

  “Morning,” I mumbled, then a bit louder: “What are you reading?”

  “What’s it look like?” she asked with a giggle. The cover was blurry, so I leaned on the porch railing to get a better look. Before I could make out the title, the woman let out a gasp and dropped the book. She stood and rushed down the porch stairs, clasped me by my shirt sleeves, and squinted her eyes. “It’s you!”

  “Yeah, it’s me.”

  “You don’t look as handsome in person. Not all men age well, I suppose. Still, Angela found herself a keeper.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “My name’s Lily,” she said, snatching my hand and shaking it with a wide smile. Her toothy grin and slight Southern drawl were endearing. “I’m best friends with Angela. We’re practically sisters! She’s upstairs in the shower right now. I can keep you company in the meantime.”

  “I’d like that, Lily. Got an extra cigarette?”

  “Sure,” she said, reaching into her pocket. The request bought me a moment to consider my next action. I’d wandered into an odd situation. If she had recognized me as a friend, I could improvise well enough. A friend of a friend complicated things.

  “How did you recognize me? Not that it isn’t nice to meet you, but Angela and I went separate ways a long time ago.”

  “A photo,” she said, handing me a cigarette. She struck a match and added: “Yeah, it’s pretty old. Five years?”

  “Has it been that long? I can’t keep track of time,” I said, then inhaled a waft of smoke and continued: “Five years or not, it feels like a lifetime. Glad she still lives here. I happened to be passing through. I hope she doesn’t think that I’ve forgotten about her.”

  “She hasn’t forgotten about you,” Lily said, sounding somewhat downtrodden. After a long pause, she went on: “Angela didn’t tell me anything about you, except you were the only man she ever loved. Not even a name!”

  “Isn’t that sweet?”

  “Well, what’s your name, handsome?”

  “Why ruin the mystery?”

  “Because,” Lily said before darting her head toward the door. Another woman stepped out, d
ressed in a blue blouse and jeans, towel wrapped around her hair.

  “I heard you talking to someone,” the woman said, peering toward the lawn. Her hand suppressed a gasp as her eyes met mine. “Michael?”

  “That’s it? You were so tight-lipped before, I was expecting something exotic,” Lily muttered. Her friend walked right past, eyes glued to mine. When she tore off the towel and shook the moisture from her long hair, I lost control of my senses and seized her by the wrist.

  “Michael,” she repeated. Her lips quivered as a tiny whimper left her mouth, followed by a tremendous sob. I embraced Angela as a flood of emotions overwhelmed me. Her grip tightened with each sob, sinking her fingernails into my back as if she intended to lovingly rend me to pieces.

  And then I remembered.

  -

  A young girl squatted over a bed of flowers, picking the pink ones and carefully placing each into a woven basket. She hummed a sweet tune, scarcely masking the sound of my stealthy approach. I crawled across the grass like a hungry snake, eager to clasp my cold fingers around her bare shoulders. She turned her head sideways, her thick blonde curls bouncing against rosy cheeks.

  “There’s no need to sneak up on me. I was about to bring a basket of flowers home for mother.”

  Before she could fully turn around, I threw myself onto her back and pinned her to the ground. We rolled around the flower bed, her playful blows quite powerful for such a slender figure. I pressed my fingers against her fleshy thighs, ran my face against hers, relishing the warmth of her heavy breaths. A glow seemingly ensconced my entire being. My eyes met hers as she opened her lips to utter a sound. I could recall no more.

  -

  A blurry image in my mind’s eye, nothing more than a fragmented snapshot of a memory without context, but it was all I needed to confirm the truth. The sudden swelling of my heart was a genuine passion stirred by a forgotten lover. How did we meet? How did we part? None of it mattered. Though the name Michael rang false, I refused to believe the memory artificial.