IN YOUR DREAMS (Mark Appleton #3)

by Patterson, Aaron

  Time ran out. The big man hit me in the chest with his shoulder, and we flew backward through the picture window. Glass shattered, and I could feel the impact on my back. The force of the body running at me was more than I expected. All the breath escaped my lungs, and the thing landed on top of me and was up and behind me before I could even react.

  He somehow got behind me, and took his big hands, one clamped down around my lower jaw and the other held fast to the back of my head. He twisted and about tore my head off completely. I heard my neck snap before I felt it. It was as if my eardrums burst at the same time that my spine broke in four places.

  Red stars flashed across my field of vision, and I dropped to the ground. The grass was wet, but I felt nothing. I knew this was the end. They won, and just like that, I was dead. I felt like a camera that had been dropped on the ground; I could only see sideways toward the feet of the beast.

  I could hear K scream and run into view. Her feet were bare, but now black crowded my vision, slowly closing in toward the center. I couldn’t move. She was looking out through the broken window. I tried to force my head to move, to see her face, but no amount of will power could fix this.

  Blackness. In the end, it is all just black.

  ***

  Sucking breath and shooting up from a lying position made my head spin. I gulped the clean air like a starving man. My lungs burned, my eyes were watering, and I could still feel my neck stinging all the way down to my tailbone.

  My mind raced and all at once, memories and conflicting thoughts converged on me. Voices from me and Kreios flooded my brain in a mass of sounds and chaos. I clutched my skull and shut my eyes, but just as I did, I remembered what had just happened.

  K!

  I opened my eyes and jumped to my feet. I took an attacking stance, head cocked and fists clenched, already glowing. What is going on?

  I was in the kitchen of my house, but not the right house. This was Maria’s and my house in the wrong time and place. “Oh God, please, not this… K and Sam, please!”

  I felt rather then heard something behind me and I spun on my heel and saw the very same man who had just killed me in the real world, the key world. He looked up at me, and a confused look crossed his face. His jaw loosened and his eyes flashed to the dead body out on the front lawn.

  Lying on the grass, surrounded by broken glass—was me. Not me, but the me of this time and place. I worked my brain through the reality of what I was seeing. It went against what Kreios had told me. He said I would assume the identity of any world I was in; I couldn’t occupy the same space as myself because I was somehow subconsciously controlling the dream.

  Standing up, the big man rose to his full height. I felt the energy flow from my heart again, and this time I would not mess around. But just when I thought I was ready, the man did something I never thought possible.

  He split.

  The man wore a thick black coat, blue jeans, and combat boots. He lurched forward but not like a man in control. Ripping from his back, a jagged wing wriggled free, followed by a tail. I stepped back and watched as the thing squirmed and clawed from the body of the big man.

  It only took a few seconds, but in my mind, it was in slow motion. It was some sort of dragon-looking beast, and when the head broke free, I gasped in shock.

  Demon. That was the only word to describe what I was seeing.

  The two were now separate, standing next to each other. The man was breathing heavily and seemed to be gaining his strength. The demon was a full three feet taller and twice as long as the man. Its head touched the ceiling, and it had to hunch to keep from bumping it. It had a long snout, and thick, green goo dripped from its jaws.

  I didn’t know what this thing was, or how I was still alive and here in this time. But I knew one thing: if I let the two attack me, I would not be able to do that cool trick again.

  I do not know how to control this energy, and the glowing in my hands was now so bright that it obscured my hands. My chest glowed even brighter and my shirt fell apart as if it were made of thin, dry paper.

  Turning my entire mind to the feeling in my heart, I summoned my will and raised both hands toward my attackers. A beam of white light exploded from my hands and joined into one thick bolt of pure energy. I slid back. The tile floor crumbled under my feet and carved a ditch in the floor.

  The energy bolt hit the man in the midsection and he popped like a watermelon. Guts and flesh blew outward, and the man crumpled to the floor in a bloody heap of flesh. This enraged the demon and he whipped his tail, catching me across the legs. I went down hard but was up again. An aura of energy burst out from my core, and I grabbed the charging demon around the throat and willed my body to react.

  I felt the cold energy leave my hands and the demon’s head exploded in a mess of green mush and blood. I fell to the floor, breathing heavily. I watched as the demon withered away and the remnants of it floated in a black mist. I watched in amazement as it formed into a ruby colored stone that lay on the floor, hooked to a chain. It was in the midst of the mess that was left of the man. It glowed, and all the mist disappeared.

  Not cool. It must survive that way, going into that stone thing. I wondered if the man wore it around his neck like a necklace. I bet he did, it must be the connection, the way the monsters controlled their human hosts.

  “What did you do?” Kreios appeared in the kitchen, a thin white glow around his body. I was no longer glowing and my palms were black and burnt. My heart thumped in my chest.

  “I… I—don’t… don’t know.” I scrambled to my feet and stood surveying the room. “Kreios, what is happening to me? This is impossible.”

  “You are not supposed to be here. How did you travel on your own, are you asleep?” Kreios had a hard tone laced through his voice, and it grew harsher as he looked around. “You got killed! Do you know what you did?!”

  I took hold of his collar, turned him, and made him focus on me. I could feel my anger on the edge of being completely out of control. “I don’t know what is going on! You tell me, Kreios. I was attacked, I was killed, and the next thing I know, I’m back here and this thing followed me or was already here. What do you want me to tell you?” I pushed him away and swore.

  “I’m out! I can’t do this anymore. I am hopping back and forth between worlds and realities, and I can’t even control this stupid energy thing. You come along, and now I don’t even know what to do or think anymore. You do what you want, but I’m done. You got it? Done!”

  Kreios was no longer glowing. He stepped through the broken window and bent over the body of… of, well, me. He sighed. “This is not good. The Brotherhood is already here. There is no way to stop them now.”

  Here we go again—the Brotherhood, demons, men with crazy time travel skills, and some not-quite humans messing everything up. “What is this all about, Kreios? No more beating around the bush. I am not moving —”

  “Mark! Mark, what—” Maria stood at the kitchen doorway with a look of pure horror on her face. “Mark, what is going on… are you okay?”

  CHAPTER 21

  REAL. JUST THE WORD brings images of things we can believe in. How can something made up ever take the place of the “real deal”? Yet in this black and white world what lives in the gray area between our ears may be real, but we shove it into the imagination department.

  Supernatural, teleportation, telekinesis, and other things like this are quickly discarded as a good story or movie but not real. If it cannot be touched, felt, or seen, it must be made up—imagination.

  Mooch was of this mind, but over the last few weeks, he was doubting his own thoughts. Was anything he believed real? Was it all there in front of his eyes, but like the rest of the world, he just closed his eyes to the truth? He felt like a little boy again, thinking that no one could see him just because he shut his own eyes.

  Mooch stood over Isis, and when he turned and saw the thing—the presence protruding from his body and the dark sword in its hand—
he came awake in a sudden jerk of painful realization.

  Fear gripped his nerves as Mooch forced his mind to free itself from the reality of what he was becoming. He somehow managed to turn around, and Mooch took hold of the demon’s spiked arms. He could feel warm blood run down his wrists and arms as he squeezed hard and fought with the dark, drooling thing.

  “No—” Mooch ground his teeth together and pushed back on the monster, but it was like pushing against a concrete wall. No, not a wall, it was a force hard yet soft. He felt like it would vaporize at any moment and fill his lungs again, and he would be worse off than he was before.

  Why was he fighting this? Wasn’t he happy, wasn’t he alive for the first time in his life?

  “You need me! Let me in, and we will do great things. Don’t you want a friend, someone who will never leave you, someone who will give you everything you want?”

  “You’re not real—can’t be real!” Even as the words left his lips, Mooch knew he was lying to himself. Yet a part of him wanted to be a part of the thing. He would be one of a kind, someone who could do anything and be anyone. True power was—

  This lapse in his resolve was all the demon needed. He reached into Mooch’s chest, grabbed something, and dragged himself back in. Tail twisting and wings flapping, Mooch arched his back and screamed. The sound carried out of the room and down the hall to the elevator. The slim crack between the elevator doors and the floor caught the sound, and it flew down to the first floor where it echoed through the entire floor. Doctors, nurses, and patients stopped, and a cold shiver ran up the spines of anyone who heard. It was a subconscious thing; on some level, they all knew something was out there that was not of this world.

  Mooch opened his eyes and instantly had a strong craving for meat—steak, grilled and rare. He couldn’t remember what had happened or where he was. He stood up and saw dried blood on his arms and palms. No cuts were visible, no indication of where the blood came from.

  The hospital room brought him back. He saw Isis and knew why he was here. Not to kill her, no, that thought was selfish and shortsighted. We must make Kirk suffer. We must make him pay for his sins. Killing her would be too easy, too final, too short.

  Mooch felt good, real good. He stretched and raised his arms above his head and could feel the rippling muscles under his shirt. He was never a big kid, he used to get shoved into lockers, turned upside-down, and dunked in nasty high school toilets, but not now. He was a different man now.

  “We are brothers. Now and forever, we are true brothers.”

  “Yes,” Mooch whispered, “I swear to you, swear my loyalty, my devotion.” He did not remember what he was or who he was talking to, but it just felt right.

  The overhead lights flickered twice and went dark. Machines, once working, shut off, and the ones with batteries would last another hour, maybe two. Mooch smiled in the dark not noticing the red glow coming from under his shirt. Hung from a gold chain around his neck was a small ruby-colored stone that pulsed and hummed in the darkness. Mooch took a step toward the bathroom just as Kirk Weston walked in.

  ***

  Kirk Weston felt his heart quicken. Was it hope, was it the thought that this might be over soon? He gripped the silver canister and pushed through the metal door leading to the stairwell. He didn’t want to risk the elevators with the power situation; he didn’t think the backup generators would last much longer.

  Emergency lights were on in the stairwell, but they didn’t cast much light. Kirk took the steps two at a time and was soon out of breath. He was in great shape, but not as good as he was last year when he had spent a year in captivity. Nothing to do, so he worked out every day for four to six hours.

  The hall was empty, and the feeling of being along on a hospital floor made him uneasy. Where are all the doctors? Don’t they know there were people here who needed attention too? This was just like them, look after the important ones. Just like Mark, they left him. He had a sudden fear that Isis was already dead or maybe moved to another floor.

  Running down the hall, he scanned each number looking for the right one. The overhead lights flickered and went out. Kirk stopped and drew his service weapon out of habit.

  Something was not right… He had an out-of-order feeling, and that scream; he could have sworn he heard someone scream as he was climbing up the stairs. It had made his skin crawl.

  Kirk found room 204, and he stopped. The door was closed and not a sound came from the other side. This was not right. A bad feeling gripped his gut and twisted it into a knot. He could smell disinfectant and urine, it made him want to gag. As he opened the door, he felt rather then saw someone in the room.

  The room was dark except for the red and green lights coming from the machines next to the bed. Kirk breathed in a sigh of relief when he saw Isis. He looked around the room and holstered his .45. He forgot about the feeling. All he saw was Isis.

  Isis was on her back, hooked up to tubes, and her tan face had fresh boils covering both cheeks and her left eye. Kirk’s breath caught in his throat. She was breathing in short, harsh gasps. Her chest heaved up and down, and her breaths sounded like water and gravel.

  Kirk twisted the top off the silver canister, took out the syringe, and pulled the orange plastic cover from the needle. He did not think about the dose, didn’t know if what he was giving her would kill or save. But Isis was dead already. He looked at her closed eyelids and wondered if she was too far gone already.

  The soft light coming from the ECG monitor gave off enough light for Kirk to find the IV. He slipped the tip into the plastic tube and pushed down the plunger. This was it; this was what he had been looking for, what he almost died for. He set the syringe on a table next to the bed and looked at Isis as if he expected her to wake up all better. It doesn’t work like that, Kirk… give it time.

  Kirk took Isis’s hand and sat down in a roll chair. He watched her heart rate and prayed for the erratic beeping to level out. He was not a doctor, but he knew that what her heart was doing was not normal or good.

  This life was just one problem after another. It felt like he couldn’t get a break. His first marriage ended in a violent fight and a messy divorce. He was a good cop—no, he was a great cop—and became a detective thinking things would turn around for him, but instead they got worse. His boss, the Chief, hated him and made his life a living hell, and even though he had the highest conviction rate on the force, he couldn’t seem to get free of his past.

  He did have a temper, and his need to be left alone didn’t help with keeping partners happy. He had a line of ex-partners who wouldn’t give him the time of day. Now here he was, in the middle of a secret agency that went around assassinating people and doing what they thought was right for the country and the world. He not only was now involved with them, he was helping them instead of taking them down.

  And why was he helping them? Not because he believed in what they were doing, but because of a woman. That’s right, the great Kirk Weston, ladies man and grumpy recluse of a man, was falling all over himself for a woman.

  But Isis was everything any man would want. She was incredibly beautiful, but not a snob. Skin like silk, and yet she was strong due to hour after hour in the gym. She had black hair that seemed to be made from liquid glass, smooth and shiny falling over her shoulders like water. Kirk slid his fingers in between hers and wondered how someone like her could ever like a guy like him.

  He thought of her smile, the way she could kill and fight like a tiger and still be delicate and breakable. How was that possible? She not only had the looks but a personality and a heart that was true and open. She was smart and dangerous. His heart swelled. He could feel his gut ball up, and he felt like vomiting. He was going to lose her, going to watch her die before they could even try. It would be over before it even began.

  “Shut up, you idiot!” Kirk twitched at the harshness of his own voice. “Stop being a baby!” He slapped himself and shook his head. If anyone saw him like this it would be the
last thing they ever saw, Kirk would make sure of that.

  Kirk wiped at his eyes and placed a kiss on her forehead. “I love you, Isis.”

  CHAPTER 22

  MARIA STOOD ON SHAKY legs and stared at me, or rather through me to the broken body on the kitchen floor. There was dark green and black slime everywhere, and blood was all over me and splattered all over the kitchen. Kreios was gone, and so was my body. I thanked God for that; I didn’t know how I was going to explain how I was dead on the front lawn but still here.

  “Maria,” I took her around the shoulder and turned her away from the mess. “There was an intruder, and he attacked me.” Maria was shaking, and light sobs escaped her lips. I hugged her and we sat down on the couch.

  “Mark, there’s so much blood and… stuff all over. Are you okay?” Her voice raised an octave, and she turned as if suddenly aware that I might have been hurt.

  “I’m fine; I just need to go call the police. I need you to sit here. Promise me you will not go in there.” Maria nodded, wiped her eyes, and hugged herself.

  “Okay, go. I’ll sit here.”

  The last thing I wanted to do was get the police involved, but it was something a normal guy would do if he were attacked in his home, so I had to play the part. I found my cell on the counter and flipped it open.

  “Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”

  ***

  Blue and red lights flashed, bouncing off the houses in my neighborhood. I stood with my arms around Maria, and little Samson sat in the lawn throwing grass up in the air and laughing. Everyone from the neighborhood was out looking at the Appleton house and talking among themselves in hushed tones. Cell phone cameras took video and pictures that would be up on Facebook and Twitter within the hour.

  “Guess we are going to be famous. We should get prime time exposure on Facebook-land for at least a week.”

  Maria smiled. “Yeah, just what I need. Now we’ll be the family who killed a burglar.”