Page 11 of Demon of Dreams

“Hey, you ready to go again?”

The driver’s voice brought me back down to earth. I opened my eyes, and my head whipped back and forth in confusion. We were back in the station wagon, in the parking lot, the pitch-black of the night enveloping us.

“I—wha—what did you say?” I asked, trying to get my breath under control.

It was a dream, remember?

Some dream. It had felt so real, each sensation as detailed and vivid as waking life. But I’d never left the car.

“I asked if you were ready to go again,” the driver repeated, giving me a doubtful look. “You were pretty out of it, huh?”

I flushed, grateful he couldn’t see my cheeks in the dark. Grateful he couldn’t see anything. I could feel cum coating my cock and balls, dripping down my inner thighs inside my boxers. Ireallyneeded a change of clothes.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice still breathy. “Yeah, I guess I was. But I’m all set, if you’re ready to go.”

“Sounds good.” The driver nodded and put the car in drive. “You were kind of moaning there for a second. Woke me up, actually. Thought maybe you were having a bad dream.”

If you only knew…

I’d never been more grateful that people couldn’t read minds. There was no way he’d let me stay in the car if he knew what I’d been dreaming about.

“You like bluegrass?” the driver asked, fiddling with the radio. “Think we’re in range of one of my favorite stations by now.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know if I’d even recognize bluegrass. But I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Here, listen.” He took his fingers away from the radio dial. A twangy banjo filled the car, the notes plucked quickly and confidently. The sound was upbeat and energetic and altogether different from both my dream and the night’s earlier events.

I nodded. “Yeah. This is good.”

The driver smiled. “Told you you’d like it.”

I froze, then shook myself.Stop being an idiot.It’s a normal phrase.Just a coincidence.

“Mason City, here we come,” he said cheerfully.

I nodded.

First Mason City. Then Wisconsin, if I could hitch my way there. And then?

Then I’d figure out what to do next.

3

CORY

From Mason City, I hitched a ride to Waterloo.

That took me back south, but a little farther east towards Wisconsin. I got to Waterloo at midnight and thought I’d have to sleep under a bridge somewhere, but I stumbled upon a couple who were driving overnight to Prairie du Chien, which zigzagged me north again, and at least got me over the state line.

I had no idea what to do once I was in Wisconsin, though, and I was incredibly tired. I found a little park with a picnic area and a bathroom with composting toilets. Not the most pleasant place I’d ever spent a night, but better than sleeping outside.

I curled up on the ground and hoped like hell I’d lost those monsters back in Iowa. I drowsily tried to come up with a plan if they found me here—trick them into falling down the toilet shafts?–but dropped to sleep before I could finish it. For once, my sleep was completely dreamless.

I woke up around seven, as the bathroom interior oozed from pitch black to predawn gray. On my walk back to the main road, I pulled my phone out. The battery was running low. I studied the pictures on the mood-board post. There was one with a bronze statue of a leaping stag chased by two wolves. Maybe someone would recognize that, if I showed it to enough people. It seemed like a stretch, but I wasn’t sure what else to do. And I needed to figure it out fast, if those things were still after me.

The attendant at a gas station where I bought a Snickers scratched his chin and thought hard when I asked if he’d ever seen it.

“Don’t think so.” He frowned. “Why? Is it some kind of tourist thing?”

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