The Man On The Train

The officers and I pulled into the driveway with hushed tones. We knew he was inside and the kids were probably in there too. From the backseat I pleaded with Bobby to let me help. Let me get those kids out safely. I mean, this is why I’m here anyway isn’t it?

Bobby had been a family friend for years. He was a bit gruff but a nice guy most of the time. He was fiercely protective of his family to a fault. Always willing to throw himself in the line of fire before letting his wife, a crisis negotiator, use her skills to diffuse tense situations and she was the best in her field.

Despite all that, I loved him and wanted to slap him all at once when he said,

“You need to wait here. We don’t know what that guys got going on in there. He could have claymores lining the dining room wall we just don’t know. Since we armory was robbed we have to be on high alert.”

“Why am I here then? Why did you bring me here? Am I supposed to just wait out here for the train to come by? For this guys friends to show up?” The explosion had demolished civility and returned humanity to neanderthal times but with better tools and men with no value for other humans. Women and children weren’t safe, the weak and feeble weren’t safe, pretty much crude men ran the world and the result was sickening and horrific.

“Stay here or so help me I’m locking you in with the kids.” He was getting angry with me but there was a chance there are several small children in there suffering who knows what.

“Damn it, those kids are scared and will either hide or run away when you go busting in rambo style. You need me to get them out before shit gets bad.” His voice thundered as he climbed out of the car and towered over her. He had nearly a foot over her despite her being tall for a woman.

“Stay here! I mean it, Tasha, do not come inside.” Turning on his heels he approached the side of the house. It was an old colonial that had since been converted into tiny dismal apartments. It made me sad to think that a once beautiful home was once filled with childrens laughter and family dinners. Now it housed a group of perverts renting kids until they were no longer useful then sold again into slavery as either wives or servants.

A tall over grown fence lined the other side of the driveway blocking view to the yard on the other side. Tiny little voices floated over fence. Whispering, or maybe whimpering. A small tinny sound, crying perhaps. With out another thought my feet cleared the car door easily and I tried to pry the hedges and weeds aside but the vines were woven tightly through the chain link fence. I made my way down the chain link toward the road. That is dangerous, bandits or marauders or whatever you wanted to call the mess that passes for men these days could show up any moment and try to grab her. Women who aren’t badly scarred are hard to come by these days and she would fetch a high price. Hence the heavily armed entourage.

By the time I’m nearly by the road I hear them behind me. They must have gotten the guy but couldn’t find the kids. I could hear things like, ‘didn’t see any’, ‘no toys’, and then,

“Where the fuck is she going? She is gonna fuck it up!” By now I was peeking around the hedged fence watching closely to the tracks. If that train rolls around the corner for a visit I gotta get the hell out of there and into hiding. The coast looked clear as I slipped out of the driveway and around into the next. The driveway next door was empty but the house had a garage door and it was open about 6 inches and as I approached the house I could hear that tiny little sound again. It was tears and whimpers that came from under the door. On the other side of the hedge I can hear the guys back at the car. Bobby was pissed.

“I told her not to fucking move. She never fucking listens and she’s gonna get herself snatched.” Shaking my head I whispered over the hedge.

“I can hear you, jack ass, and you didn’t find the kids did you?” he ignored me.

“If those guys roll down the tracks right now you’re fucked.” After a pretty heavy eye roll and squatted to look under the door, hand on my weapon and feet poised. Sure enough, curled up in a corner, was a little boy scared and crying.

“Hey, kiddo. Cavalry came looking for you. You’re safe now but you need to come with us.” There was no telling how long this boy had been here or what he had to endure but it was over for him and she could take relief in that. After some encouragement the scared child climbed out and into my arms. He was no older than 4 or 5 and frail. My heart broke a little and I scooped him up and headed back down the driveway. No sooner did I approach the street and the tracks did I hear the rumble. Crouching she placed her hand to the ground. “Shit!” The trains coming. The boys heard to because the car started and was puled behind the house. I turned tail and headed back up the driveway separated from her rescue team. We climbed back into the garage with our backs to the wall and prayed the train would keep going and not stop for supplies here. When the tracks began to whine and the brakes started squealing my heart skipped.

There was some talking and yelling and soon there were footsteps running up the driveway and maybe the one the guys were in. We were out numbered out gunned and unprepared. Bobby was gonna kill her if they lived through this. As the footsteps approached she saw combat boots. I raised up on one knee pushing the kid behind me. One hand on my gun the other on the blade in my boot. These boots though, they are women’s boots, a hand grabs the bottom of the door and yanks revealing a badly scarred red head looking very surprised. That’s when it occurred to me, there were freezer chests in this garage. The humming I heard the first time was the generators in the back. As quickly as I drew my weapon she held up a hand. Not a warning but more of a ‘wait’gesture. A male voice came from behind her and I was grateful for the dividing hedges.

“Got the beers yet woman?” The woman held her finger to her lips for us to remain quiet.

“Getting them now but Jimmy’s getting low, let’s make sure he’s not drinking our supply.” An annoyed grunt then,

“Prick won’t be drinking anything on us again. Some asshole offed him. Probably bringing in the young ones again. People don’t like that shit.” Red head became red all over when she looked at the boy behind me. She quickly crossed to the cooler and lifted a couple cases of beer out. She started walking out and mouthed ‘Get him out of here now!’ Don’t have to tell me twice.

The woman left and we listened for more noise coming from the road. There was some incoherent yelling some sobs from mothers forced to give up their kids food supply just so the conductors could see the fear in her eyes. This had gotten so out of control that the corrupted were falling into an even worse state of evil and depravity. We were no longer people but evil savages. The huge machine chugged back to life and slowly but surely lugged down the track toward the next terrified village of poor saps.

Before I had gathered my thoughts the garage door ripped open again and the gun came out and I nearly emptied the clip into Bobby. Just as his face appeared below the door she dropped her gun and sagged her shoulders. Bobby looked down right ill. He hugged me tight.

“Why? Why don’t you ever listen to me. You’re lucky they started using chicks for supply runs or your would be someones caged puppet.” Sadly, he had raided a sadistic warehouse where people were used as art pieces and kept in cages no bigger than its occupants. His sister was in one and she had died before we were able to get her out.

“I heard this guy from the other side and I had to get him out.” Bobby turned to the kid.

“Where’d you come from?” The boy pointed to the small hole in the bottom corner of the fence between the driveways. “You escape on your own?” The boy nodded slowly but never spoke. “We’re gonna get you out of here, alright?” Turning to me, “They brought the car around, get in and I swear to god if you get back out before we get home I’m going to chain you up myself.”

I hesitated after the boy was loaded into the back of the car. Bobby gave me a tired look as though to say, I don’t have it in me to deal with more of your shenanigans, so I laid it out for him.

“This has to end.”

“It will.”, he replied

“No, we have to do something. There is no cavalry, we are the cavalry. I can’t keep hearing these kids stories. We can’t keep living in constant fear.” I motioned to the meek cowering people emerging from their homes in the wake of the train leaving. Checking out the damage and worrying over lost food and contaminated water. The men running the train, the conductors, left fire and destruction, fear and blood everywhere they went. It was like the whole world was at their mercy. Most of the people left here were disfigured women and children, the elderly that hadn’t been killed off for their food, tobacco and access to water. Here people could go into town and find things or grow food in the empty plots left behind by unfinished homes and abandoned ball fields. So the conductors would roll down the tracks and collect what ever the local village managed to scrounge up. We never knew when they were coming or how much they would take.

“And what is it you are going to do?”

“I don’t know but I need your help.” I planted my on my hips.

“Girl, we are not prepared for what ever vendetta you’re ready to wage with the conductors. You don’t even have a plan.” I planted a hand on the top of the door and hopped in the back seat with the boy.

“If you won’t help me I will find someone who will.” He rolled his eyes and started grumbling while sliding into the passenger seat. The other marines were shaking their heads and chuckling. I hadn’t made it onto their team because of my good looks. Black op’s teaches you how to fight for yourself. Being a woman teaches you how to get what you want. There was no way he was going to let me go anywhere where he didn’t have eyes on me.

So that was it. As we turned out of the driveway and kicked up the dust racing in the opposite direction of the train we all knew. We were going to war. We were going to do what the rest of the world was too scared to do.

The Doctor In My Dreams

The whole thing seems like a dream. I suppose it all could have been. At this point I'm not sure I know the difference. I guess I should begin with who I am and why you should care. Although, I'm not entirely certain why anyone would. Either way, my name is Mike. I go to college on an academic scholarship. I am studying psychology and I have had epilepsy since I can remember that is well managed by medication in that I can't remember having a seizure, ever. Didn't realize how odd that was until I began university and started my English requirements for my major. Communications I believe it was called but what is really important was the assignment that was to be completed by the conclusion of that semester. A dream journal. Well, for most of you I'm sure there is no issue there but for me, well, I don't dream. Ever. It was never something I thought about and was never really brought up before. Most people ask how you slept not what you dreamt and since most people forgot about their dreams by then so it never came up. Until now. After we picked up our materials for the next few assignments I headed out to lunch and tried to study for another class but all I could think about were dreams. And that's where it all went wrong.

After making my way back toward the dorm I called my Mom to do a little info gathering. I am a pretty healthy person so I don't go to the Docs often so I have never had to handle my own medical info.

"Hey Ma, I had a question for you. We have to do a dream journal in my English class but. I don't remember any of my dreams." Before I could even elaborate further she spouted out what sounded like a practiced answer.

"Oh, honey you don't dream because of your medication. But don't worry, the doctors said it's absolutely fine you just simply don't remember them. Just keep taking your meds and everything will be fine." There was a pause, "You are taking them right, like we talked about?" I stared at the screen of my phone for a moment. I had always been good about my meds. Risk of seizures and all.

"Yeah Ma, of course." A deep sigh drifted over the phone and she mumbled something about the stove and said she loved me before hanging up abruptly. Again, I just stared at my phone. Well, that was a little strange. I tried to shrug it off and go about my day but now I was afraid of failing my assignment. If I screw up here I could lose my free ride. I e-mailed my professor about my inability to complete the assignment and asked if there was an alternative assignment I could complete instead then headed out to pick up some beer because a day like this ought to end with beer.

By the next morning I was climbing out of my hazy stupor as well as my bed and rummaging up some change for the coffee shop down the street. I packed up my laptop and charger, a few books and headed out. By the time the life giving black liquid finally reached through my stomach into my soul I was awake enough to check my email. There was a response from my professor. Awesome, at least I can get an idea of how to pass this class but when I opened it a bomb went off in my brain and it was full of questions. In an effort to keep this post tidy I'll paraphrase the email.

"Mr. Elliot,

While I am aware of your condition I am also aware that the medications for your condition do not prevent the dream stages from occurring. In some severe cases some medications can repress the active state of your brain in order to prevent seizures from occurring. This will result in bizarre and sometimes nonsensical dreams but never prevent them. If you are truly not dreaming at least a couple times a week then I recommend you either see a doctor as that may simply be a symptom of something else or you cut out the drinking. Either way please let me know what your intentions are for this assignment.

Thank You,

Dr. Singh"

I sat back hard in my chair catching the attention of a couple other student taking advantage of the fast wifi. What the hell did that mean? So basically I'm either still sick, my mother's been lying to me or I have been throwing back a case of Buds a night and I knew that wasn't the case. I tried to remember my last dream. Nothing, in fact, my memory of most of my past is a bit blurry and disjointed. I once knew a friend that was one behavioral meds for years and he was very zombie like. Did fine in class but didn't have much energy and his attention span was shoddy at best. One day he decided he couldn't take it anymore and stopped his meds. He faked popping his pills every morning and every night and after a few days the light came back into his eyes. He started hanging out with us again, his appetite came back and he seemed happy again. He moved away not long after that but he seemed to have been handling the change just fine. I worried about having a seizure but I figured if that happened I would just go back on the meds and tell my mom what was going on. After all, I couldn't risk failing my class, the pressure was high to do well so I had to do this right.

Pill time is usually right after dinner (of after ramen for college students) so I popped that days dose into a little mint tin on my desk. I wanted to try to keep track of how many days I was off the drugs. My phone rang and it was Mom. To voicemail she goes. I was nervous and I wasn't sure how I was going to feel since I couldn't remember a time I wasn't taking them.

Day one was pretty uneventful. I hadn't dreamt last night but I do remember something about a foggy, blurry room. Mine maybe but nothing else. Maybe it was the drugs messing me up but I wanted to trust my professor wasn't just making something like that up. Why would he want to lie about the side effects of my medicine? It didn't make any sense.

Day two proved a little more memory of dreaming. During the day I felt normal if not a little tired. As though I hadn't slept well in a few days. Adjustment to the lack of additional chemicals in my brain. Prof emailed me back wondering what I planned to do about the journal. In the process of my experiment I had nearly forgotten the point of it all. I shot back an email, something about a change in meds and my plan to struggle through trying to remember and that the journal might even prove helpful. Never heard back from him today so I guess that was an acceptable answer.

Day three I woke up feeling wiped, totally exhausted. I could remember some more vague details about the dream from the night before. I was right, it was my room I had been standing in the night before. It was night but the room felt darker, like light couldn't stay in the room. I walked around looking at every detail. Everything was where it should be from the photos taped to the wall to the junk food wrappers littering the floor. I looked over to my dorm mates' bed but it was empty. I remember thinking it looked like someone was in it but it was empty. I stepped out the door, though I couldn't remember opening the door. The hall seemed abandoned and there wasn't even a whisper behind the doors of the other dorms. It was never this quiet. I'm not sure how long I walked around the building but I started feeling sleepy after a while and made my way back into my bed room. The strangest part was that I saw someone laying in my bed. Must have been my drunk roommate passed out in the wrong bed. I tried to wake him but my hand passed right through him. I leaned over to look at his face and it felt like my heart stopped. It was me laying there. As soon as I recognized my own sleeping face I woke up with a start in my bed. I was sweating and exhausted.

All that day I was distracted and confused. Why did I dream about myself and my own room? Why was I so tired? I hadn't even noticed that I hadn't had any seizures or anything but then I began to worry that maybe I was having them at night and that was why I was so worn out. I had my communications class that afternoon and figured I would take a look at some other dream journals to see if anything seemed familiar. In my adult life I had never dreamt so what a dream was supposed to look like or feel like was a mystery to me. Once I got to class a friend of mine was already sitting in the back filling out her dream journal. Most of her classes were in the afternoon or at night so she likely only woke up a couple hours ago.

"Hey Max, good dreams?" Max and I had been friends since high school. She had purple hair and wore chucks and a nose ring. She wrote horror stories on reddit. I liked her but she was one of those girls that didn't really date and certainly wasn't into college boys. More the hipsters with guitars and a man bun type.

"Nah, just the standard flying over the city into a naked in the class room. I wish my dreams were more interesting but I guess I work all that out with the stories." She chuckled.

"Mind if I take a look?" She dropped the notebook on top of my desk and pulled out her phone. Prof was late but that wasn't unusual. Sometimes he didn't even show up but emailed us half way through class to tell us he wasn't coming. (He had a new baby I think.) The notebook told of Max flying over palm trees then dipping her hands in the ocean (we don't live near the ocean but she was from California.) Then the narration jumps abruptly from that to her standing in a lecture hall in front of hundreds of students. She was trying to talk about something but was stuttering and sweating until she looked down and she was in her underwear. She shouted and ran out of the hall waking up only a few moments later in bed. "This normal for you?" I asked. She seemed puzzled and tilted her head to the side as though she was trying to hear something.

"I guess so, it's a normal dream I guess. Why?" As I mentioned this was not a normal topic of conversation for me so I hadn't realized she didn't know about my condition. Since I had never had a seizure in front of anyone most people didn't even know about my condition. I explained my meds and my email to the prof, his response and my experiment. I expected to be reprimanded for not taking my drugs but instead her confusion only increased. "I have a cousin with epilepsy. He can't play video games or go to see a movie with bright flashes. Sometimes even an arcade can trigger a seizure. I have seen him have one and it's a traumatizing thing to see the first time. He is on medication to control it but, Mike, there is no cure all. You would still be having episodes even with the meds. Not to mention he could still dream."

This threw me hard. What the hell was going on? I was going to have to call Mom and find out what the hell was going on. "Why would someone want to stop dreaming all together? That doesn't make sense to me. Why would my mom lie about something as serious as epilepsy?" She straightened in her seat.

"Only thing I have ever heard of is for people who have had night terrors or PTSD or something. What have your dreams been like since you stopped taking your meds?" I told her all I could remember and her eyes went wide. "I want to know everything you dream tonight. Everything, every detail person or place you see." I agreed just as the professor walked in and let us know the lecture was rescheduled for next week and to keep up with the dream journals. All the students started filing out into the halls and Max stuck by my side. We talked about other classes but the conversation went back to my dreams and my meds. We talked about me walking around my own dorm. She had a plan for me. She wanted to me try to leave the dorm. Explore campus in my dream. This confused the hell out of me, from her it sounded like she had no control over her own dreams but that the brain took over as though you were merely watching a movie. I shrugged and suggested I would try but while her day was just beginning mine was coming to a close. I had some homework to finish and I would text her when I woke up to let her know what had happened. This whole thing felt odd and made me feel a little bit crazy.

Day four was certainly more interesting. I headed to bed and was asleep in no time, I was beat. Then it felt like I woke up and I was staring at the ceiling thinking this was bullshit, I had a big day tomorrow and I needed something for my dream journal but that wouldn't happen if I couldn't sleep. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed I dragged myself up, roomie was fast asleep in his bed so I shuffled over to the door. I wanted to get a bottle of water from the vending machine and try to work out whatever energy was preventing me from sleep. I carefully stepped into the hall and realized the darkness crept in just like the night before. Instead of closing the door I turned to see my own body lying in my bed once again. It wasn't such a shock this time but still a bit jarring but it occurred to me what Max had said about getting outside so a walk seemed to be the best idea. I shuddered, this whole dreaming thing is so strange and I wasn't sure if I liked it, in fact, I thought about taking my meds the next day so I wouldn't have to do this again. Suddenly, a strange kind of thrill came over me. I just wanted to wander around and explore the parts of campus that all the sleeping students never saw. Feeling like the whole place is abandoned and just for you was almost exhilarating.

As I stepped through the door to the courtyard outside I couldn't smell the air, in fact it was nearly silent. The only sounds was like a distant chuckle like someone had read a mildly funny meme on facebook. On one of the benches outside the door sat Max. She had on her headphones and a sketchbook on her lap. I approached her and took a seat beside her but she never looked up except to look back at the door. I hadn't heard it shut, had I even opened it? I couldn't remember. I tried getting her attention,

"Whatchu drawing?" Nothing…. "Hey, I'm talking to you nerd." She looked up at the door again, back to her book. I looked at the page she was working on, it was a sketch of the courtyard, someone sitting on the bench and a man looking over her shoulder. I looked at her quizzically. So could she see me? I placed my hand on her shoulder and her head jerked up. She shivered pretty hard and looked directly at me. She didn't look directly into my eyes but seemed like she looked through me. As though she couldn't see me at all. Waving my hand in front of her face I realized that she couldn't, in fact, see me. After a few moments she looked at her watch, the door, then picked up her things, shoved them in her bag and walked away without another word. I sat back on the bench trying to make sense of what had just happened. Why am I dreaming about this? This hadn't happened before and I couldn't remember if I had ever met with her at the dorms at night. I was staring across the courtyard pondering what kind of dream I was having and why I was lucid enough to control myself and make decisions. Max had said that wasn't a common ability.

Suddenly, in the silence, I saw him for the first time. He was wearing a dirty, white t-shirt and torn jeans. The strange part was he was wearing a doctor mask so you don't spread airborne illnesses. At first he was standing behind a row of bushes looking down so I figured he was some drunk frat kid who didn't feel like looking for a bathroom until he slowly began to look up. So far the only people I had dreamt of since I began this little experiment were my sleeping roommate and a nonresponsive Max. Otherwise it was like the world was devoid of human life. Now, though, here was this guy and I realized he was looking right at me. Not through me like Max had but instead it was like he was letting me know I could see him. I stood and waved to him hoping to ask what the deal was with this dream but he stepped backward. He smiled behind the mask and waved back. As soon as he had he turned and ran into the woods between the dorms and the ball fields. I stepped forward but he was gone. He was impossibly fast but I had to just keep reminding myself that I'm not used to dreams so this was probably normal. After a few moments I walked back into the dorm and up to my room. I paused over my own body, this is just so weird. I placed my hand on the shoulder of my sleeping self and awoke in bed moments later as though that was the cue to wake up.

When my eyes popped open everything was as it should be but my eyes ached my body ached and I was just so tired. It felt like I was being drained ever so slowly. I packed up my shit for class and sat back on my bed. Not today way too tired. I emailed my professors to let them know I would be happy to complete any assignments if they would just email me the work and closed my laptop. I couldn't go back to sleep so I wandered over to the coffee shop. Max was sitting in a booth in the window waving franticly at me. Pushed through the door and the bell shook me. All night I dreamt of silence and the chaos in this shop seemed to echo off the inside of my brain. It was like being up all night drinking Jagermeister and redbull then waking up for work in the early morning. Light and sound were actually painful. Max took one look at me,

"Shit, were you up all night drinking?" I shook my head,

"No, I did what you said. I saw you sitting outside drawing and I saw some other dude too. Woke up and" Before I could get any further Max started bouncing in her seat and waving her hands so fast she nearly knocked over her coffee.

"oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. So I actually was at your dorm last night." She pulled out her sketch pad and slid it over to me. It was the same drawing from my dream.

"Wait, how did you do that? I didn't tell you about what was on the drawing. How did you know?" She took a deep breath and calmed herself down. She had a lot to say and she wanted desperately for me to understand her.

"Alright, what I am going to tell you is going to sound bizarre and something out of a crappy Netflix movie but hear me out. I believe you are not dreaming. I think you are projecting." She held up a finger so as not to be interrupted. "It's called astral projection and some people can do it on command. It's like meditating but your spirit or whatever comes out of your body while you're unconscious. I slip into the astral plane. The general belief is that this realm is where spirits go while they wait to cross over. A kind of purgatory, god and satan's waiting room if you will." She must have seen the look on my face because she rushed on to get it all out. "You may have been born with an ability to cross over when you fall asleep. You're worn out because your brain is remaining fully active while you're 'sleeping' but since you can't seem to control it I am willing to bet that is why your meds prevent you from 'dreaming'." By now she was so excited she could barely contain herself so I interjected while I had the chance.

"Okay, so if what you're saying is true that means that my mom has been lying to me all these years and now I can wander around the world with the ghosts? What about Doctor guy? Was he just some guy on campus or will I be able to see ghosts too?"

"Well, if popular belief if to be believed, my guess is you should be able to see lingering spirits but they might not be able to communicate with you. It depends on the mental stability of that person or spirit." I shook my head. I just stepped into a goosebumps story somehow.

"Netflix isn't exactly a research tool. How do you know all this?"

"My aunt owns one of those Wiccan supply stores. You know with all the candles, incense and tarot cards? She taught me all kinds of stuff about the occult and spirits and demons. I was hoping I could take you to see her. She's sort of an expert and has certain abilities."

"Alright, we are way out of my element here." First my meds, then dreams, now I am what, a ghost walker? And who the hell is that doctor guy. I took a deep breath. "Alright, we can go see your creepy aunt tomorrow. I want to see what happens tonight." She brightened again,

"Do you want me to wait for you again?" I shrugged, she couldn't see me but she was probably going to show up anyway.

"If you want to." She clapped and snatched her coffee off the table. She had to head to a class but promised she would wait outside and that I was to touch her again so she would know I was there. I shrugged and she nearly skipped out of the coffee shop. My shoulders sagged against the metal wrungs of the chair as I tried to sort out what the hell was going on. Time to call mom. No sooner had I thought it did my phone ring. Speak of the devil. I slid my finger along the screen to answer and before I could say another word she started to shout.

"Michael please tell me you are taking your medicine. I got a call from your professor letting me know he thought you weren't taking them. He also told me I should look into your dreams. What is going on up there? I think you should come home. Just in case…" I shut her down quick,

"Mom chill out, I'm fine. It was just an experiment for my dream journal. Nothing has happened and I haven't had any seizures. In fact I'm sort of dreaming but I'm not used to it so I'm adjusting."

"That's it. I want you to come home. I want you to take your meds as soon as you get off the phone, pack your things and head home." She hesitated, "Before you have another dream."

"Mom, what is going on?" She sighed hard

"I don't have time to explain but, honey, you can't dream. It's not safe. Please come home." With a calming voice I explained I couldn't leave school but I would be fine. I told her she needs to tell me the truth but in the mean time I have work to do. She hated that idea but she didn't have much choice. I'm an adult now. Looking back I wish I had listened to her.

That night was the strangest yet. As per usual I 'woke up' in bed that night and the darkness closed in. As I pushed open the door to the courtyard Max was in her spot at the bench. Eyes darting from the door to her pad to her watch. I walked over to see her master piece and she was drawing me. I was on the other side of the bushes facing her. Right where mask face guy had been standing. It wasn't until I spotted something over my shoulder that I began to get nervous. It was doctor freaky. He was a few paces behind me smiling with his eyes behind the mask. He was close but not close enough to reach. I touched Maxes shoulder as promised and she jumped as though I had slapped her back. She started talking, staring straight ahead. Despite the obvious excitement and maybe even concern she never made a sound. It was like her voice was turned off. She stiffened suddenly and pointed. She looked terrified. I followed her finger out toward the woods behind the bushes. There he was.

He was no more than 20 feet away from me. For the first time I could see he was holding something. It was a blade of some kind. Something from a science fiction show. He had rope or cord wrapped around his shoulder. He looked like he was going on an expedition. It didn't occur to me to be afraid until he looked at me, then to Max. He pointed to her with his knife and grinned. Max went white as a sheet and took off racing down the path away from the dorms. She had left her sketch pad and I thought that really odd. I tried to pick it up but my fingers passed right through the paper. I would have to wake up and come outside. When I returned my attention to the knife wielding doctor he was looking back at me. I stepped toward him but froze when he swung the blade in my direction. He grinned at me and turned to run for the woods again. I wanted to see what was in that sketch book so I went back inside instead and up to my room.

I woke up sweating and delirious. It wasn't that hot in the room but it felt like I had been running for quite some time. I immediately remembered the sketchbook but I had no idea how much time had passed. I really had hoped no one had stolen it but I was pleasantly surprised to find it where she had left it. I sat on the bench to take a look at her drawings. As I flipped through the pages I became more and more concerned. She had drawn the doctor before. Several times as well as myself. In every picture he was a bit closer to me. The first one was from last week. She knew something she wasn't telling me so I could only hope that she or her aunt had some answers. All I wanted to do was dream. Look where that got me.