October 8, 1988
22 days remaining
Donnie switched gears violently, throwing the Ferrari into first. The squealing tires sounded tinny as he raced through the Grand Canyon, pixellated dust billowing over the screen. He jerked the steering wheel. Out of control.
Gretchen played beside him, effortlessly sliding around a hairpin turn. Paying little attention to the game. "So when you sleepwalk, can you remember afterwards? Like, do you dream?"
"No. I just wake up and I look around, try to figure out where I am. How I got there."
"My dad said never wake a sleepwalker... Because they could drop dead."
He crashed, burned. The Ferrari folded into a tree. Game Over. The game offered thirty seconds to start a new race. He tried to describe the feeling.
"It's like this big force that's in your brain. But sometimes it grows bigger... it spread down into your arms and legs... and it just sends you someplace."
She frowned. "So when you sleepwalk, you go somewhere familiar?"
"No. Every time, I wake up somewhere different. Sometimes my bike is laying there next to me. Like once when I woke up on the edge of this cliff up on Carpathian Ridge."
"And you'd never been there before?"
Didn't answer. Fumbled in his pocket for more quarters, gave up halfway through the attempt. She touched his arm.
"Donnie?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you ever feel as though there's always someone watching you?"
"Why?"
"Well... Maybe someone is giving you these dream steroids. And sleepwalking... is someone showing you the way."
The timer reached zero, stuttering electronic klaxons reminding them their time was up. They left the arcade, arms linked. Protecting each other.