Page 33 of Dark Visions

“Are you sick?” Flip didn’t answer but just stared straight ahead. “Yes. If I touch you, I can see if there are any life-threatening illnesses.”

Flip stood and turned toward Adam, his huge frame looking down at his friend. Adam rose to meet his stare, although he did have to look up a few inches. He waited and realized Flip wanted him to touch him. Adam nodded and reached out, touching the side of his friend’s neck, the only bare spot accessible.

He closed his eyes and focused. The heartbeat was faster than normal, but not unusually so. Blood pressure was solid, pulse solid. Organs were intact and functioning well. His brain was an interesting picture. An entire section was generating energy at an alarming speed, but there was no indication of a tumor.

“You have no life-threatening illnesses, Flip.” His friend nodded, letting out a long slow breath. “Your brain, however, is functioning at an alarming speed in one particular area.”

Flip plopped back into his seat, taking a long swig of his beer.

“Now, are you going to tell me why you thought you were sick?”

“I didn’t think I was sick. I wanted to see if it was something… curable.” Adam sat next to his friend again and stared at him, waiting patiently.

“Fuck! Are you going to talk to me or not?”

“Shut the fuck up,” he said through clenched teeth. “Yes. Just give me a minute.”

Adam waited patiently for his friend to gather his thoughts. When Flip started to speak, Adam didn’t think he would ever stop. The words flowed so freely, and without pause, he knew that he had been holding this in for a long time.

“So, you can move objects at will?” he asked. Flip nodded.

“See that chair?” He pointed to the chair across the fire pit, and Adam nodded. Without flinching, he flung the chair across the road. Adam didn’t move, didn’t let out a sound. Thinking he needed more convincing, Flip pointed to his motorcycle. He leaned forward and stared at the vehicle.

Adam watched, mesmerized by the palpable energy coming from his friend. The motorcycle lifted off the ground, seemingly floating on air, and moved a dozen feet to the left, and then settled carefully back on its kickstand. Flip sat back in the chair and looked down at his feet.

“That convince you?” he said with a sarcastic tone.

“That’s fucking cool, dude,” he said, smiling. “I know you don’t think so, and I get it, but it’s fucking cool. You know, I know that you saw Kane the other day. He’s different too.”

“Kane is? I mean, I sensed something about his woman. She was nice, kind of sweet in a way. She wasn’t anything I would have pictured Kane with, but she was different.”

“She’s definitely different. We all should sit down and compare stories,” he said with a grin. “Look, Flip. I know this is hard for you, brother, but we’re here for you. We’re always here for you. If we’re freaks, then by God, let’s be freaks together.”

Flip laughed for the first time in forever. His mind relaxed just a bit. He nodded and clinked the neck of his beer bottle to Adam’s.

“Alright, man, I’ll think about it.”

“Promise me you won’t up and leave anytime soon?”

“Promise,” he said, smiling at his friend.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Kane was lost in a dream with Aislinn that was slowly swallowing her, consuming her in its gray images of sadness and despair. There was no blood, no horror, just a profound and weighted agony of loss and tragedy. He held tight to her hand as they slept, wandering through a house that neither knew. Crying from another room turned her attention, and he followed her through the large archway.

Krauss sat on a sofa, two women beside him, consoling him. His face was red with grief and sorrow, tears flowing freely down his face. The black suit he wore was well-made, the starched dark blue shirt and tie matching the fog of pain that filled the room.

Aislinn felt the sorrow and loss so heavily she thought she might drown in it. Someone he loved was gone. His pain was excruciating, the loss devastating.

It’s okay, baby. I’m right here. It’s only sadness.

It’s more than sadness. It’s despair.

Kane watched the scene, Krauss glassy-eyed, staring straight ahead. People offered him food and drink, and he refused. He stood and moved toward another part of the house. No, not a house, a funeral parlor. He entered a room filled with people seated on rows of chairs. Looking up, he spotted the two caskets, one large and one small.

Oh, God, no!

Krauss walked slowly down the aisle, all eyes turning to see him. His eyes focused ahead on the caskets. Peering over the edge, Kane saw them, a woman and child. The woman was probably forty, pretty, with light brown hair. Her body was still, hands crossed on her chest, a rosary wrapped in her fingers.

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