And then he’s on top of me.
The crowd goes wild. “Lindsay! Lindsay!” they chant. They start to clap as I struggle to get away from Corning, but he’s attached to me, like his skin is made of tape. He’s an icicle, jamming at me from every angle, my skin pierced by his cold, cold body. My heart skips beats, my knees weaken, and I hunch over, curled into a ball, waiting for it to end.
Just make it end.
Then he snarls and all the cold turns to hot flesh and fur. I try to crawl away and a putrid scent fills my nose. I gag. I put one hand forward and move with him on top of me. The crowd goes silent and as I look out, opening my mouth to scream for help, I see the auditorium is empty.
The brutal nighttime sky is above us, clouds covering the moon like congressional staffers burying a scandal, and I’m shivering, my body torn, my mouth bruised by some demon that kisses me until I can’t breathe. My throat spasms. My lungs are seared shut.
Stellan appears, the high school version, then Blaine. He’s wearing the suit he wore when we went to homecoming in high school, and he hands me a corsage, clipping the silver elastic band around my wrist.
I look down.
It’s a dead rat.
I scream, but the sound just goes backwards, as if my own cry tries to escape from my toes but can’t. Oh, God, the pain the pain the endless pain. Where’s Daddy? Where’s Mom?
And then relief. I’m alone, in a river of blood, on a scarred wooden stage with the stars above. The cloying trickle of red helps me to stop shivering. I look over my shoulder for the source.
Stellan, John, Blaine, Tara, Mandy, Jenna and Nolan Corning are piled in a heap, eyes dead, bodies draining.
And when I look to my right, the auditorium seats are back. A single spotlight shines on me, showing my nude body, showing the flow of all my enemies’ blood.
A lone person is in the audience.
Drew.
He claps silently.
And whispers --
“Lindsay!” Myles shakes me, touching my face with a wet washcloth. I’m clawing my face, and my wrist burns. Someone’s pinning down my bad arm and my shoulder burns. “Lindsay, honey, it’s just a dream. Just a bad dream,” he soothes.
“Drew,” I rasp, my voice sounding like rusty guitar strings being plucked by claws. My eyes stay closed and I breathe through my nose, the sound like a train coming over and over again through a tunnel. Myles’ hands are warm and big. He’s worried. I don’t have to open my eyes to tell.
The fluorescent lights are on above me and as I open my eyes I squint, closing my eyes against the assault. When I open them, I see Silas in the tiny rectangular window of my hospital room, looking in.
Somber.
Worried.
Then he picks up his phone.
I know who he’s calling.
And if I could speak to him, I’d ask Drew one question. One.
What was he about to say?
Chapter 13
Drew
I’m alone in a chair, with thousands of similar chairs surrounding me, the cavernous space filled with a fine mist that tastes like oranges and pixie dust dancing on my teeth. I’m naked, then clothed, a flash of outfits passing over my body like an old-fashioned Rolodex being flipped.
Then I’m walking barefoot on sand, dodging IEDs, running with an American flag streaming behind me.
It is riddled with bullet holes. Each hole in the sacred fabric bleeds.
Suddenly, I’m in bed – my bed – my ceiling a cloud formation, stars twinkling behind the clouds, appearing here and there as a light breeze reveals them. Lindsay’s hair hangs over my face, tickling my nose, and I’m deep inside her.
She smells like warm apple pie and sweet spun sugar, the tangy taste of her juices on my mouth. We kiss with a wet, lush openness that makes me crave her more. Being inside her isn’t enough. Rocking her to ecstasy, her body stretching out as she tips her chin up to the stars, isn’t enough.
I’ll never, ever have enough of her.
For now, though, I’m in heaven.
My hands slide up her long torso, peaches-and-cream skin that stretches until it’s marred with blood, the long lines of rib turning the color of old rust. Her ribs stand out in stark relief until my fingers strike steel.
I’m touching a xylophone.
She’s turned to metal.
Our eyes meet and she’s a robot, all glitter and automaton. My cock feels like an icicle, and then poof – she’s gone.
And I’m back in the auditorium again, clapping alone.
I look on stage and there she is, her long hair covering her face, dripping over her bare breasts like honey. She opens her mouth and sings the most haunting melody, a siren call that hypnotizes me until I can’t stop clapping, cheering, calling for her to go on and on and on.
My phone buzzes.
I pick it up and whisper, “She’s back. Lindsay is back.”
I wake up to the buzzing of my phone. Someone is calling me. This isn’t a text. I shake off the dream and answer.
“Foster,” I bark into my personal phone, then grimace. What if it’s my sister, or Monica, or --
“She’s talking.”
It’s Silas.
“She’s what?” The smell of disinfectant assaults my senses, making it hard to listen. My apartment was scrubbed clean by professionals after being cleared as a crime scene by police. The blood stains are gone, but the room feels damp and haunted. Silas and Mark offered to let me stay with them, but I’m determined not to let the past get to me.
They do not get to ruin my future, too.
“Lindsay had a nightmare and said your name.”
Five thousand electrodes charge my body and I sit up, a cold sweat suddenly exposed to air as my sheets roll off me. “She said my name?”
“I heard her, through the door. Then confirmed it with the CNA who was with her when she spoke. Lindsay spoke the word ‘Drew’ quietly, but he swears he heard it.”
I’m breathing heavily, still half in dreamland, processing Silas’ words. “I’ll be there soon.”
“No rush. She fell back asleep. But Harry and Monica have an eight a.m. meeting with the doctors and Harry wants you there.”
“Me?”