Without Chance

Chapter Four: Strangers in the Night

Pain and heat. Pain from the bruise on my forehead that I was sure was just developing. Pain from the fire that was slowly, but tangibly, rising all around. Locked in the steel prison, burning alive as I peered through the tiny glass window, screaming noiselessly for someone to help me.

No one would help me. The devil was outside again, his smiling human mask a mockery to the species. The horns still protruded from the mask's forehead. The fierce, yellow eyes seemed to burn into me, their glee at my anguish evident. The mask changed; I recognized who it was meant to be now.

It looked as though Noah Porter's face had been torn from his skull and placed over the face of the monster hiding behind it. I could see blood lining the edge of the mask. This one wasn't rubber, it really was Noah Porter's face, torn from his skull and worn as a mask by the servants of Hell he so actively seemed to pursue. A long, forked tongue darted between Noah's bloody lips.

As quickly as it had appeared, the horrible face was gone. Moments later, a new face appeared. The heat was rising. I was still screaming, but I couldn't even hear myself anymore. Everything was silent. I pounded on the door, but no noise came back to me. Even the flames licking all around brought nothing to dispel the cacophonous silence. As the new face appeared, time seemed to slow. I shouted my pleas for help.

The new face drew close. This face was the same as before, indistinguishable, surrounded by the halo of wispy light. It still trailed off the face in the window like iridescent steam. As the face stopped just before the window, it spoke. I couldn't hear the words. I couldn't hear anything. But I knew what the voice said, echoing inside my mind.

"I'm sorry, Ryan. I can't help you," is what it said. The voice belonged to Chance. For the briefest of instants, his impossibly deep brown eyes glistened clearly with unshed tears from the otherwise indistinguishable face.

Then the claws came, breaking through the form in my window as though my regretful visitor was made of nothing more substantial than the wispy light surrounding it. The pleasant face broke apart like smoke in a breeze, glowing faintly for a moment before it was gone. The devil wearing Noah's face reappeared. He was laughing. I couldn't hear it. I could feel it, grating against my bones as the flames consumed the tattered remains of my flesh. I silently screamed again, and the dream broke.

I sat bolt upright in bed. It was still dark outside. A glance at my alarm clock told me it was just past three thirty. I dropped back onto my pillow, mildly disgusted to feel the dampness there. From the way my skin felt, I'd been sweating pretty intensely.

I got out of bed, and went into the bathroom. The cold air brushed across my sweat-covered skin like a winter breeze, though it was only early fall. The leaves hadn't even fully changed yet. I was going to have to start wearing more than just boxers to bed. I turned on the pale yellow light.

It was pointless to turn on the hot water; it always took at least ten minutes to get even lukewarm so I just turned the knob for the cold water.

Splashing the icy water on my face was biting, shocking me into a clearer state of mind and pushing the nightmare further from my perceived reality. I looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes looked heavy, my hair damp and listless. Not my best look. I sighed and wet my hands again, running them through my hair. It would take a bit more work before school, I knew.

The dream had come at least once a month for close to two years now. I had never told anyone about it. It had never changed before. It had never come so soon after the last one either.

The devil wore Noah's face this time. I didn't understand. Noah was obnoxious, and a bully, but he wasn't evil. At least I didn't think so. And the voice... Chance's voice. The face still wasn't his, though the eyes had become his in the last moments. Chance's voice had seemed so sad, so full of regret.