The Validium Takes Manhattan
Part One
Jane was running.
That was the first thing that struck her as peculiar. She never ran. Jane wasn't much of a walker, much less runner. Sure, if the occasion deemed it necessary, she could make due. If, say, a giant alien spider made up of billions of smaller void eating spiders appeared…then yes. Jane ran. Jane ran for her life.
But generally, Jane was more of a meanderer than anything else.
Except something was following her. Something dark and ancient and terrifying.
So she was running.
She didn't dare look back. Even if she did, she knew she wouldn't see anything. But that didn't mean it wasn't chasing her. The nothing she ran toward was still more preferable to the living breathing darkness behind her. It was hard to explain how she knew she was being followed, since there was nothing to see or feel, beyond the clawing fear that kept her legs pumping away. It was an instinctual fear, the kind that made children scared of the dark, the kind that told mice, hawks weren't particularly friendly.
The latter example was a good way to describe the terror that coursed through her body. She felt like she was being hunted.
Jane didn't want to be hunted.
So she ran, harder and faster than she ever had. She was already reaching the limits of her abilities. Her heart pumped acid into her lungs which burned with each ragged breath. The aching muscles in her legs begged her to stop as they rapidly turned to jelly beneath her. Sweat burned her eyes as her body desperately tried to cool itself.
Lord, how she loathed running.
The realization that she couldn't run forever hit her like a truck. She let out a desperate whimper, urging herself on, but she knew it was futile. She could keep running, and eventually do something stupid, like trip over her own rubbery legs. Or she could stop and take on her attacker, or at the very least, face it. Both ways ended in her death, but perhaps with the second, she might get some answers.
So she stopped and turned, staring out into the eerily claustrophobic void.
For a moment, nothing happened. Nothing changed. Nothing swallowed her up into the darkness. But she could still feel it out there. And then she could finally see it.
There was a shape, vague at first, but it became identifiable as a man. It grew closer, gliding instead of walking, muted colors slowly appearing. It was wearing a tan suit, as though it were a person. A mask to hide its true form. Flickers of orange and green broke up the bland color, giving the impression of more details, but failing to fully materialize.
But where the face should have been, there was only the void.
Her whole being recoiled at the sight, fearing it in some deep primal way.
She looked into it, and then she screamed. But there was no noise. Only darkness. And it devoured her.
Jane jerked awake, slamming her elbow against the glass window on the bus. The old woman seated next to her looked up from her knitting and grunted dismissively before returning to what looked like, the world's longest sock.
She realized she had been holding her breath and she let out a shaky sigh. It was just a dream, just a silly dream that had scared her so badly she was having heart palpitations.
Jane wiped the fog from the window to look at her less immediate surroundings; office buildings and steady traffic suggested they'd already made it to the city. She must have been asleep longer than she thought. Her cramping muscles hinted that she might have considered a better position to sleep in for four hours.
She dragged a hand over her face, the details of the dream were already fading, but the uneasy feeling remained. It wasn't like she hadn't had the nightmare before, it was one of those reoccurring ones that always cropped up when she was having a particularly crappy time. It had been occurring with increasing frequency this whole past year, because well, it hadn't been a particularly good one. She still didn't think it was fair for her subconscious to try and strike when she was already so sleep deprived, nor did she appreciate how unsettlingly realistic they were starting to feel.
She tried to comfort herself with the fact that she had made it to the city, and shortly she'd be enjoying a much needed break.
But she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that the dream meant something. Nor could she entirely explain why her legs ached as though she had run a mile, or why her throat felt raw like she'd just been screaming.