Into the Specter

Chapter 12

Flip wakes to the sound of crackling static.

Grumbling, he rolls over on his stomach, blindly reaching out a hand to his bedside table.

When his fingers make contact with the phone he jolts up, tripping on his sheets as he stumbles out of bed. He clutches it in his hands and turns up the volume, suddenly realizing where the static was coming from.

The sound becomes clearer. An angry grunt. Another yell. A loud clang against metal.

Flip is struggling to wake up and he squints at the screen like it will tell him what's going on. The bright light is hurting his eyes so he puts the phone to his ear and hears your voice.

"Yo, yo, yo, aggressive," you shout, followed by a small scream. There's something panicked in your voice. It's not your usual sarcastic and mildly infuriating tone.

He drops the phone on the bed and searches around for his jeans. Desperate to get to you. To stop whatever is going on. To do something.

Flip grabs the phone once he's dressed and hastily puts on his boots. He trips over himself to grab his truck keys and curses under his breath, grabbing his gun on the way out.

As he slams his front door closed and walks across the gravel to where he's parked, there's a panic forming in his chest. Flip's grateful he heard you. He doesn't quite remember leaving the phone on and he certainly didn't mean to fall asleep to it.

He starts the engine and hears another yelp from you. He grits his teeth and slams on the gas, his mind focused on speeding towards the station, not even thinking to alert anybody.

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The pillow in your hands is almost all shredded. The man is furiously stabbing at you. For a few seconds, you've managed to hold him off by grabbing the pillow and blocking his knife. You shout at him when you see the blade poke through, followed by a small scream, and you duck under another swing. It hits the metal bars with a clang.

Your body is running on pure instinct and adrenaline when you try to land a kick to his legs, but in the darkness, you misjudge the distance and end up hurting yourself instead. A sharp pain shoots up your right leg from hitting the edge of the bed. Your brain is still waking up. There's been no time to process the dream or whatever the hell is going on right now.

You use the pillow to block another one of his swings and you can hear the fabric tear. The pillow now split fully in half. He follows you around the cell as you're scrambling backward, looking for something else to defend yourself with.

The man rips the scraps of pillow out of your hands and pushes at your chest. Your shoulder blades sting from the impact as you're slammed into the corner of the room.

It's evident in your reactions that you're afraid. That's not unusual but it's starting to surface and your thoughts are all over the place. You wish that it had been Flip. You wish you had realized sooner that it wasn't him. Most of all, you wish that you weren't here right now.

A sudden shriek bursts out of your mouth, echoing around the room. Automatically, you look down to where your nerves are on fire.

The knife is jammed into your right thigh.

You stare at it, suddenly nauseous. The man had stepped closer and stabbed you without you even registering it. Your hands impulsively try to clutch at it and remove it in a panic. You're mind is overlooking all of your training running through your subconscious saying that's the worst possible move. The man is quicker and he yanks it out of your leg. Blood rushes out of the wound, staining your pant leg. Your mouth morphs into a silent scream.