AN: Hello once again guys, hope everyone had a nice weekend. Also, I just want to give a quick thanks to EyelessEmpire13 for reviewing. Anyways please enjoy the chapter.

***18***

I got in a few more wobbling steps today than I had yesterday. The cast got taken off of my leg two days ago and I'd been trying to walk my problems away.

I leaned against the wall of a waiting area. A couple of orderlies talked in the background, someone filled a cup of water from the cooler that sat at the far end of the room. The old TV that they had hung in the corner chattered on about the weather.

Detective Schaefer had only been in three times in the past ten days since the last dreamer attack. What had he found since then? More importantly, why did the dreamers attack that house? Was it just because they had the opportunity? Or was there something special about the people who lived there? Where did the Walrider fit into this now?

Who was I kidding. The Walrider was dead.

I ducked away from the wall and put my weight back onto the crutch I used to walk.

There was a survivor of the attack, they had been brought here. Apparently the couple who lived in the house had a daughter who was visiting from college. She's been moved into the room down the hall. I'd caught whispers from the staff about her being in a coma since she came out of surgery. If she was lucky she would die in her sleep. Who knew what kind of hell the dreamers had put her through, more than likely she was still there.

I hobbled past the nurses station, an elevator let out a faint ding, some people shuffled out and past me.

What brought them to that house?

I would give my other arm to be able to read again; I was going stir crazy in here.

I took a step straight into something solid and smelling slightly of whisky.

"Good afternoon mister Upshur"

"Detective Schafer? Did you find something else to interrogate me about?"

"Calm down, I'm not here for you. I was seeing if Katherine was awake yet."

"Is that the girls name?"

"Yes. Now if you don't mind I have to get back to work and find the attacker." Schaefer bumped bast me on his way down the hall.

I knew that this was mostly my fault, and I might deserve being treated like a piece of shit, but as far as the detective knew I was a victim too.

"Hey! Schaefer! You don't need to act like such an asshole." especially considering that you've only been dealing with this for less than a month. Hell, nothing had actually happened to him and he was already using booze as a crutch. If he'd seen half the shit I had he would be sobbing in the corner.

He stopped and came back to me, this time moving faster than before. He stopped close enough for me to feel his breath coming out in thick huffs.

"Miles, the town is going to hell. Nothing was wrong until you showed up here"

"Ya ya, everything's on me. I don't need you constantly breathing down my back about it" I beat myself up enough, I don't need your help.

There was a shift in the hall, a door clicked open, before I knew it I was falling out of the hall and into something hard. Detective Schaefer came down on me, pinning me to the wall. The door swung shut behind us, my crutch clattered to the ground.

"You think you're so goddamn funny, don't you? There was another home invasion, Miles. But this time nobody made it out."

He was putting enough weight on my neck to make breathing a distant dream "It's probably better that way."

The detective backed off, I took a gasping breath.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

So, so many things.

I ignored the question "have you looked into the escaped patient idea?"

"That and everything else."

"Did you check the footage? If you look at the original one there's a document at the end that talks about the Blind Dreamer Project. I think that's what's going on here."

The detective was putting a little space between us now, though I could still smell his whisky laced breath.

"Miles, all the Murkoff patients are either dead or relocated. Your chasing a delusion."

"No. No, I'm not."

"For someone who was only chasing a lead you sure are sure of that"

"Isn't that what you're doing? Besides, theres nothing else that could explain these attacks."

"Yes there is. There's always a detail that we don't catch. Tell me one more time what happened"

"For the last time, I've already told you-"

He pushed me back into the wall; he must have drank more than just what I could smell.

"Miles, people are dying."

"I know!" I pushed against him, though it was weak and the movement threatened to rip my healing back. If I hadn't been so fucking sure of myself I could have found a way to kill these things a month ago. But now there were more innocent bodies behind me.

Oh, who am I kidding. I've spilt my fair share of blood, left a couple dozen shredded families in my wake. No. They all deserved it. Everyone I killed deserved it.

"I know." I said a little more quietly this time.

"Then help me stop it"

"I already am. There are escaped patients. Look into it."

Schaefer slumped back again.

"No, you didn't see this scene. This wasn't some escaped patient, it was like a hurricane hit the house and nowhere else." There was a ruffle of fabric, a clink of metal, the sharp scent of alcohol filled the room.

"Do you have a flask?"

"Don't worry about it. There was just so much... I've never seen anything like it."

Lightweight.

"I have. How much blood was coming from the eyes? Where there even any eyes left?"

"Ha! Eyes? There was nothing left. CSI didn't find a single piece of bone bigger than an inch long. Hell, the whole damn carpet was painted. Fuck the carpet, the walls, ceiling, everything. There weren't any bodies, not really."

Nothing left.

"It was like the people in the room just exploded into a mist? Like they'd been ripped to shred or put through a blender"

"Funny way of putting it. But yes." he took another swig from the flask.

Holy shit. I'll be damned if that wasn't the Walriders doing.

Calm down miles, it's not the Walrider you know, it was just the dreamers now. Like Billy Hope all over again.

"Miles, are you still there?" I blinked away my thoughts "don't tell me you still think it's just some patients. They'd been half dead by now. It's winter, they would have had to survive a year on their own. The brutality. This was a group of sick fucks, but not asylum patients."

"No, this has to be them. There's literally nothing else it could be. I've been telling you and you need to listen. Watch the videos, look over the Murkoff cases again. All the executives got offed the same way."

Another mouthful of whisky.

"Damn it… you're no help" He tucked the flask back into some pocket and made back to the door.

I let him go, I had to find my crutch.

The door swung open, Schaefer disappeared through it and didn't turn back.

"Sure, don't help me find my crutch. I don't need that to walk or anything." I groped around at the floor. How far did the thing get? It's not like I threw it across the room.

"Miles Upshur, to the nurses station. Miles Upshur, to the nurses station"

What the hell did these people want now?

They had tried to call for me over the intercom three times before I found my crutch. It had somehow skidded to the other side of the room. I limped my way into the hall and to the station. I didn't get halfway there before Ruth spotted me and started yelling.

"There you are. I was getting worried." She had been by to visit once every couple of days. She never failed to bring in some sort of food. I probably gained a few pounds since checking in. At any rate it was probably a good thing that she kept coming in, if it weren't for everyone getting treats when she came by I'd just been know as the asshole in room 302. Now I was the asshole with cookies.

"I was just taking a walk" I found my way to the counter and leaned against it.

"Miles, you know you're not supposed to be leaning. Your back will heal crooked" She reminded me.

Reluctantly I put my weight back on the crutch. Remember, play nice. She was letting me stay at her home.

"Anyways I was just coming by to check up on you. Are you cleared to leave yet? I hate the leaving you here all the time; what you need is some good home cooking and a nice soft bed."

I was wearing out my welcome here. That and I was about to lose it with Schaefer, I swear if he came in here to interrogate me one more time I was going to snap.

"Well, I'm just taking up a room at this point. I could probably just check myself out."

"In that case let's get on with it then! My sister is coming into town in a couple of days and I could use the company, she's a handful."

I was going to check up with the doctor, chat with the staff, make sure I didn't have some sort internal bleeding I didn't know about. But hey, If she was really desperate to drag me out of here I wasn't going to complain much.

"Ok then. Give me a minute." I turned to ask for a nurse at the station.

"Here, let me handle it. You've been standing on a bad leg. I don't want you spraining anything, go sit down."

I'm an adult, lady. I can handle myself.

Thinking better of talking back I bit my tongue and took a seat in the waiting room.

The TV had moved on to a news report about a violent crime on the south side of town. A family of four was found dead in their home late last night. That must have been the dreamer-walrider incident that had driven the detective to drink.

"The police are looking for any information relating to the incident. If you know anything we ask that you call…" they weren't mentioning any details. It must have been as bad as Schaefer said. If past experience was anything to go off of it was probably worse.

"That's crazy isn't it?" someone spoke from my left.

"Excuse me?" Off of reflex I looked to the side, not that it helped much.

"Oh where are my manners, I'm Richard."

"Miles." I said back to him.

A silence hung for a moment.

"Uh… You're not one for shaking hands I take it?"

"What? Oh, no. Sorry, I can't see anymore"

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. Would you like me to pray for you?"

Like you to what now? The last time I had a run in with the preaching type they stabbed me in the neck and then set themselves on fire.

"No, I'm fine. Thank you" My back spasmed slightly as I spoke.

"Are you sure? God heals all wounds you know."

The spasm was turning into a nagging itch.

"No, no really. I'm fine."

"Okay then."

The conversation came to a lull. I wasn't keen to keep it alive, so we settled back into a silence. The TV droned for a moment longer before cutting to commercial. The itch in my back eventually faded beneath my notice. I'd have to look into that when I got the chance.

"Miles!" Ruth came barreling back over before the news came back from commercial "you're clear to leave. Let's go, the trucks in the parking lot!"

That was fast. It probably took more time to stand up and get myself ready to walk than it did for her to get me checked out.

The two of us moved back past the desk and to the elevators. Ruth took a couple of steps past me to push the button.

"With the way things are these days you'd think that they would have these be motion activated, huh?"

I'd forgotten about having to push the button completely.