Disclaimer: I don't The Covenant. Neither do I own "All Around Me" by Flyleaf, which is where these titles come from.
-----
3. My Hands Float Up Above Me
He was back at the Dells, but the woods were empty—no kids, no cops, no nothing except him tearing through the fog. Something was chasing him, and Tyler was fleeing from it even as he raced towards something else, unseen up ahead.
His body acknowledged that the sun had already crawled past noon, but his mind refused to rouse. He had to get away from the whatever. In the dream, his foot caught on a root, spilling him onto the damp floor of the forest. A rock scraped across his chin as he hit the ground, and when he touched a hand to the wound, it came back covered in phantom blood.
A great crashing from the darkness beneath the trees behind him made his head shoot up as adrenaline pumped through him. Time to stop running, he told himself, and felt his eyes go black as the Power poured through him. Time to stop and face what was coming.
It drew up sharp, a thing of darkness and shadow, lurking just out of sight. It was amused by Tyler's stance—he could almost feel its laughter ripple across his skin. "You stopped," it chuckled in a voice that echoed off the trees, "That wasn't very smart. Though, if you'd kept running, I still would have caught you. Eventually."
Then it reached out with Power—just like Tyler's—and lightning exploded in front of his eyes. He screaming…screaming as Power ripped through him, playing every nerve ending like the strings of a harp until each molecule of him vibrated with pain.
"Tyler!"
He came awake still screaming, flailing as he tried to fight off the arms attempting to restrain him. Still blind with pain and sleep, he fell off the bed and landed on the wood floor with a thump, tangled in the bedclothes.
"Jesus, Tyler, what the hell's wrong?" It was Reid, he realized as his friend vaulted the bed and crouched down beside him.
"Nightmare," Tyler lied, knowing it had been much more than that. The pain was gone, but a feeling of unease remained. He was shaking, he realized, raising his hands to look at his trembling fingers. There were crescent cuts on the palms of both hands from clutching his fists too tight, and they were starting to sting.
Reid wrapped an arm around his shoulders and tucked him in close, like he'd done once before—years ago at summer camp, the night Tyler learned his father had given up battle with the Power and taken his own life. Tyler had been only thirteen and a scrawny thirteen at that, and suddenly, he was the head and master of the Sims household. He'd been so scared then…but that fear couldn't hold a candle to what he'd just experienced.