Chapter 8

Author's Notes: This chapter was not written by me, but rather by the fabulous, amazing, truly gifted Leave Your Sanity at the Door, whose writing it would be criminal to miss. I'm so grateful to her. In fact, I'd send her a Kruger strip-o-gram if such a thing existed.

As usual, Lorelei awoke to find her feet pounding concrete. The difference this time, however, was that she wasn't alone, with just herself and her pursuer racing through desolate landscapes and deserted cities. This time, there was life in abundance – a vibrant, bustling metropolis, full of noise and spectacle. Yet the place may as well have been dead; stopping to ask or beg for help simply wasn't an option. She knew she had to keep running, just keep running, because no one else could save her. And the crowds, appearing sympathetic to her plight, were letting her through, making no attempt to either stop her or to offer aid.

It only occurred to her that she was running in backless sandals when she felt one somehow dislodge itself. She cursed aloud. Without stopping to glance behind or take in more of her current surroundings, she hurriedly kicked off the other one and resumed running, not caring how much it would ache later.

Through crowds. Past a row of shops, all open for business in this strange city that appeared never to sleep. A hundred conversations. The heavy bass of music. People moving aside for her, clad in bright colors distorted into further unreal tones by the nighttime lighting. Fluorescent, LED, neon and halogen mingling into one blurred stream as the momentum carried her. Cold air lashing her ears, scraping lightning-fast against her neck.

Could she run forever, she wondered? Could she just sprint on and on indefinitely with a bottomless resource of adrenaline, if need be? Had she escaped her captor yet? The dark, hooded figure? If not, where was he? Being so much stronger, faster, and knowledgeable than her, wouldn't – no, shouldn't - he have caught her by now? Could it be that he was letting her get away?

That last thought proved her undoing; because, for the first time, it made her stop. And she shouldn't have stopped.

~~s~~

She had been here before, somehow, she knew.

The whole place stood empty, void of all life. The air within it, vaporous and unnaturally still; unnaturally still, like a predatory animal waiting to pounce. This wasn't right. Was there also a possible sense of danger – the sense all too familiar with uncharacteristically empty places - the fear of the unknown, the creeping suspicion of a malevolent figure lurking in the shadows or waiting patiently behind a closed door, preying on the unsuspecting victim? Was she genuinely afraid, or had she just stayed up late too many nights watching old but scary Earth films?

Was there someone after her? And... could she even recall how she had ended up here? What about what was happening before? It was if she had instantly materialized here; standing in what appeared to be an extremely fancy roadway underpass, or a corridor of what looked like some top secret government military or scientific facility. She couldn't remember anything, and her mind raced.

Of course; I must be asleep, and dreaming. This has to be a sort of lucid dream, like Mr. Smith talks about. Well, at least that means I'm safe.

Lorelei looked down her body, noting the same clothes she'd worn when she went to bed; oversized t-shirt, PT shorts, and bare feet. Yet, she distinctly recalled wearing sandals, for some reason. Sandals, in bed? Perhaps she had just fallen asleep without removing them...

A sudden chill filled the captive air, enough to cause an involuntary shudder and raise goose pimples on her bare arms and legs. Hmm... Maybe she could dream herself into wearing something more practical, along with some shoes? She imagined it, but nothing happened. Another time, but again to no avail. Once more... nothing. So you couldn't control everything within a lucid dream? Mr. Smith was always insisting. She hugged herself, trying to warm her upper arms through friction alone. It would have to do.

The walls of the corridor were an uncompromising black, and smooth to the touch - glassy like a polished marble ornament - with a cold, bare floor to match. And their surface seemed somehow unreal, dynamic; it was as if she could press her palm into them and they would undulate to take the pressure. She pressed. They didn't budge. So much for that, then. Indeed, this dream couldn't be controlled. Maybe that was commonplace for novice lucid dreamers? Mr. Smith had years of practice, after all.

Above her, in the center of the ceiling – also black - a long thin line of graceful LED pin-hole stars spanning the entire length of the corridor. Below, a continuous row of the same pin-hole illuminations running alongside the left and right walls, but emitting a softer glow. She wheeled in a swift about-face, scoping out her surroundings. It looked identical either way. She appeared to be right in the middle of the walkway; with a good hundred yards behind and in front of her, each eventually forking at right angles. No doors anywhere, apparently; at least, no obvious ones. Just where the hell was this place? It vaguely reminded her of somewhere, although she couldn't quite place it; a photo, a movie, a music video or maybe even another distant dream.

She began nervously whistling to herself before the utter silence could do her in. Or maybe her whistling proved that it already had? No, there was nothing to be afraid of here; this was a dream and if she knew she was asleep then she could easily wake herself up. Hadn't she thought that before, though, she heard herself think?

Shivers gripping her lithe body, she began treading slowly and softly along the spacious corridor, her ears finely tuned to pick up any tiny particle of noise. Yet, she heard nothing, save her breathing and the slight echo of her footsteps. Bare feet against a silken, glass-like surface. Empty.

"Hello..?"

Her voice bounced off the walls and quickly dissipated. Certainly seemed there was no one else about.

Then why did she sense a presence behind her?

Don't look.

No, she was imagining things. She would turn around and no one would be there, because-

Wrong; it had already been proved that she wasn't able to exert full control over this dream.

But she could wake herself up.

The hairs on the back of her neck were now standing at full attention. The presence was still there, deathly still, deathly silent. Awaiting her acknowledgement.

She wasted a few moments arguing with herself. Ignore it. Don't ignore. Reality logic vs dream logic. She shouldn't be scared. She had every reason to be scared. All the while, the presence didn't waver.

So, what was she going to do?

"If there's anyone there, please answer me," she said slowly, carefully, trying to feign calmness.

No answer. Just the dark walls, carrying her voice away.

"Please, just answer yes or no."

Still no answer.

Turn around. Don't turn around. Walk on. Stay put.

Decide already!

Okay. At the count of three, she would turn around. She would rather know than waste time prevaricating.

One... Two... Three...

A beautiful sense of relief filled her. No one there after all.

Well then, she couldn't now just stand around and hope for the action – whatever it was, if it even existed – to come to her. She had to go exploring. This being a dream, the chances of finding something out of the ordinary weren't so remote.

Her footsteps, although slow, brought her to the end of the corridor, which then forked. The corridors to her left and right stood predictably vacant. The lighting gradually faded into nothingness as they stretched on perhaps another hundred yards either way, so beyond a certain point it was impossible to estimate just how far each direction went.

Fear the dark. Fear the unknown. There was evil in the dark. Someone waiting for her.

No. She wasn't five years old anymore. And she could wake up whenever she chose to.

Why five years old, specifically, though?

No matter. Just a figure of speech.

Out of instinct rather than cold, she hugged herself again. A telling reaction, possibly.

No.

The right corridor was merely a wall, but ten feet down in the left one was an imposing, stainless steel door that resembled the entrance to a walk-in vault. She turned left. When she reached the door she noticed the absence of handles, and the presence of an electronic lock. She pushed the door anyway; miracles happened in dreams. No such luck in this one.

Lorelei punched a random six-digit code into the lock, feeling it was futile, and being proved right. There could be an infinite number of sequences and numbers. So what should she do now; continue left or turn right? For some unknown reason her intuition told her to go right, so she did. As far as was visible, there appeared to be no other doors on the left, so she had nothing to lose by going in the other direction.

She walked on and on down the right-hand corridor, staying close to the wall for reference and trailing her hand along its liquid-smooth surface, her fingertips enjoying the cool, pleasing sensation. It helped detract from the chill air surrounding her. But then, the lights started becoming dimmer and dimmer, and the wall's surface colder, until it seemed to be constructed from sheet ice itself, and she had to bring her fingers away for fear of them sticking. She felt the darkness closing in on her... and then, complete blackness. Dead space.

A chill ran through her entire body.

Yet she was undeterred, if only for the sake of doing something rather than just standing there. She wasn't going to let fear stop her or force her to turn back.

Although it seemed to stretch on forever, to her surprise, the corridor came abruptly to an end after another hundred yards of pure darkness, and more LED lights immediately flickered on. A staircase, the same material, color and width as the walkway.

She climbed fifteen steps, counting them as she went, after which the staircase turned. Another fifteen.

Another flight of thirty steps, at the top of which she was faced with a set of stainless steel double doors. Unlike the ones downstairs, these doors had no electronic lock, but were instead fitted with a series of heavy-duty industrial deadbolts, which looked more tedious than difficult to undo. If she had a key, that was.

Well, she had nothing to lose. She'd chance it. Maybe dream luck would be on her side this time.

The bolts were completely rust-free. But like the walls and air, they were icy-cold to the touch, heavy, and stiff, as if they had not been used since their construction.

With monumental effort, Lorelei managed to pull them free of their trappings. After the last one was unlocked, she pressed her palms against the chill metal, and with all her strength pushed the weighty doors apart-

…and stepped outside into complete nothing.

but the vast emptiness of space. Space without movement, without sound, without visible matter, without scent. Just stars.

Except for those stars, as far as the eye could see everything was a breathy expanse of blanket darkness; a bizarre paradox of airiness and claustrophobia. She stepped forwards, and the double doors swung closed behind her with a huge swoosh, sweeping a gust of dark air inwards. She swung round, as if expecting the doors to open at her command so she could retreat back in. But they remained shut, having neither an electronic nor manual lock with which to open them. A waterfall of crisp white light descended from the hooded light tube above the doors, forming a wide puddle of artificial brightness on the concrete ground beneath. The building she had exited stood virtually as dark as the sky, its presence identified only by the doors.

What now? She could either slip around the side of the building and try to find another way in – perhaps there was something to find in there if she would only do some more exploring? - or she could venture forwards into the darkness. Into the unknown. Why did she feel so much more inclined towards the latter? She bit her bottom lip, unable to come up with an answer.

Flash!

What was that?

At that present moment she became terribily aware of how alone and isolated she was in that vast, dark space. She felt like a lone astronaut on a distant planet, or a solitary wanderer lost in unfamiliar mountainous terrain, searching for any signs of moving, breathing life.

Flash!

That was the answer, there in the far distance – a beacon – a bright white strobe light signaling out to anyone lost in the blackness. All of a sudden she wanted to run to that light, to be where that light was, to reach its source, to touch it, to know she wasn't alone out here. She would reach it and someone would find her. It was a feeling that cried out for something to break through the stillness to disrupt the peace and make everything explode into a frenzy of light and activity.

She walked briskly forwards, then broke into a run, desperate to reach that enigmatic light in the distance. Again, a peculiar feeling of deja vu crept over her. Either something to do with running. Or strobe.

Pitch blackness surrounded her, punctuated by the constant flashes of white light far in the distance. With every step she felt her nervous excitement build. She looked back and saw the light outside the building she had just left, dwindling, so far, far behind her. She must have been running faster than she had originally thought.

That light gave Lorelei hope. Once she reached it she would find a clue; something which would point her in the direction of the life she so desperately sought. She had to find someone and prove that she was not entirely desolate in that endless night. She wanted to be where the action was, with fellow wanderers who had also found themselves in that building and had gone out into the darkness to learn that they were completely alone, and had followed that beacon to discover a haven, a sanctuary, beyond.

Her pace quickened to a sprint. The air whipped past her as she propelled herself forward, running on and on, ignoring her labored breath, the stitch in her side and the protests from her limbs, which she found odd to be feeling, given that this was a dream. The quicker she got to that light, the quicker she would find the object of her quest.

So she continued to run, as fast as her legs could carry her, until she tripped over a small, hard object – it felt like a brick – on the ground and ended up stumbling sideways into a huge gate and landing on her side with a dull thud. Her right shoulder flared with pain as she gripped the thick metal railings to steady herself and rise. She just thanked her lucky stars the object that tripped her up had been there to prevent her from running head first into those railings. It was fortunate that only her right shoulder had taken the impact, because it could have been much, much worse.

It shouldn't be hurting at all, though, should it?

Regardless, something like that had to be fate, or at the very least, incredibly good luck.

But where the hell did those gates come from? Wouldn't the flashing light have illuminated them? Or maybe she had simply been too busy, too distracted by the light and what she hoped it meant, to notice anything else? The gates had been there all the time and she had been too preoccupied to see them, or the object on the ground.

But now she could see them clearly, and the vast sea of darkness on the other side.

She walked left, trailing her fingers along the railings, in hope of finding a latch, a gate, any way to get in. And she walked on. And on. And on. From the brief snatches of light, she could see only an endless row of railings both left and right, but nothing indicating a way in. Although to be fair, the flashes were so brief that she didn't really get a chance to see much further than a few feet to each side of her, so there was a good chance that the entrance was there, just out of sight.

She continued left, with no luck. She contemplated going right, but then decided that each direction was as much of a gamble as the other, and again continued left.

But still, her endeavor proved futile. How far did these gates stretch? For all she knew this could be a huge military base, spanning several miles or more. What was she going to do – go left until she reached a wall, or corner, or something, and then run all the way back to where she had started and go right? And what if she still found nothing? How long would this take?

Fucksake, she thought, frustrated and annoyed, and also slightly taken aback at her use of the word. She never swore, even when livid, even when torn up with emotion. Yet she had to get past these damn things, even if not being able to get a proper view of them was a major hindrance. She almost felt a sense of despair, as if there was no point in trying, because she could be going on for several kilometers – or "clicks", she recalled, from some forgotten or fathomless place - and still not know if she was nearing an entrance unless she was within a few feet of it.

But what if there was no way in, and her effort had been all in vain? What then? It all boiled down to her being stranded and utterly, harrowingly alone, isolated in this never-ending sea of nothing.

Nothing.

Trailing her fingertips over the cold metal bars as she walked, Lorelei felt as if she was a character in one of those old post-apocalyptic novels or films - sole survivor in the world, accompanied only by her memories and the suffocating, all-consuming force of the Nothing, or the Sleep; something so potent in its nothingness that it became, paradoxically, alive - the way in which silence could be deafening and pain could be numbing.

But there had to be an entrance somewhere. If she just went on as far as she could, she was bound to come across it, no matter how long it would take and how tedious it would be. If she was going to get past these gates then she had no choice but to continue.

Then, for a reason unknown to her, she swung round.

Although she couldn't see anyone, she knew, with absolute certainty, that someone was there. Him. A tall, lean figure, fully dilate pupils hidden under a tattered cowl. She knew not what he wore, only that underneath it was armor fused with sinewy flesh. Yet instead of all-out terror – what she knew she rightly should be feeling – again she was overcome with a peculiar sense of déjà vu. This man was not a stranger to her, and neither she to him. In fact, she got she distinct feeling he knew her more intimately than she could ever imagine.

She stood, frozen in place, simply staring at the invisible form. She sensed, rather than saw, him step away from the railings, and begin to walk in the opposite direction. Automatically, she followed, stopping neither to question why or to try and reason with herself. For all she knew, he could be a mirage leading her into a trap - some amphibious type of male siren, even.

The risk was worth taking, if only not to be alone.

She continued to walk behind where she sensed him to be, at a brisk pace. He never once turned around to check her progress, obviously confident that he was keeping her in tow, enthralled. That, or she was irrelevant to him. She didn't expect him to say anything, and so, she asked no questions.

The flashing light was suddenly blindingly bright, creating the starkest of contrasts between the dense blackness and the lightning whiteness, causing her to squint frantically.

The absence of sound was palpable. In place of crashing, thunderous noise, there was only impossible quiet.

And then, he was facing her, up close and personal. Too close. She was taller somehow, older, in a body that she had no time to come to terms with.

Suddenly, it all came crashing back down upon her.

"Told you you couldn't escape," her night visitor rasped, then smiled his most wolfish smile.

To Be Continued