Red Rain

Chapter 10 - Apocalypse Please

Early Sunday morning, round about three, I'm hit with a wake-up-screaming nightmare in which I cross the Bridge and find Gabe near the side of the creek, his throat slit, blood staining the grass around him. Luca, in typical fashion, doesn't react at all to the noise I make - after I take a few deep breaths to steady my shot nerves, I look across the room, half-expecting him to bolt awake as well, but he just lies there undisturbed.

I curl up in the fetal position, shivering and crying. For some reason, I'm having trouble convincing myself that it was just a dream, that Gabe's still alive. Every time I whisper to myself, "It's not real, it's not real," my words feel hollow.

More to the point, I feel hollow.

Since Steve pointed out how the Aqua Killer and I had the same eyes, I've had the terrifying thought that maybe the killer was me, somehow. Sure, Steve insisted that I wasn't a killer. But then again, at least two of my recent sleepwalking episodes have been occurring at the same time as the deaths of the Aqua Killer's victims.

Steve might have died last Sunday night or early Monday morning. I'd found myself waking up in the lounge that morning, and then again yesterday, the morning after Penny died. The only exception, so far, is Freddie's death on Monday night/Tuesday morning, but that's easily explained - he was in Hell, and there's no crossing the Bridge after ten o'clock.

Wait - but Penny was in Hell, too. So how could I...no, I couldn't possibly have crossed the Bridge. Could I?

I take another look at Luca - he's still asleep. But not for long, I wouldn't think. Even the heaviest sleeper would be snapped back to consciousness eventually by persistent noise.

So, for the second early morning in a row, I take my jeans and hoodie with me to the lounge. This time, though, I don't put them on just yet. I lie on the same couch I keep finding myself waking up on, still in my T-shirt and boxers, letting myself cry openly to the dark, empty room.

The sun wakes me up again about four hours later. At this point, I get dressed, only to realize I'm wearing the exact same clothes I had on yesterday. I tiptoe back to my room and find Luca already awake, once again surfing the web.

"'Morning," he mutters as I go into the closet to look for a new shirt and pants.

"'Morning," I mutter back, switching jeans.

"You weren't sleepwalking again, were you?" Luca asks.

I shake my head, then pull my new shirt on. "I was actually awake-walking last night, for once."

A minute or two passes in silence before Luca asks me, "So you won't be doing Day of the Dead stuff today?"

"I assume you mean the Fiesta."

"Oh yeah," Luca says. "I forgot, you actually have an appointment with real live dead people."

I roll my eyes, then grab yesterday's clothes and pile them up in my arms. "Dude, if you don't believe me, just say so."

"Who says I don't believe you?" Luca asks incredulously. "When have you ever lied to me?"

"Never."

"Exactly," says Luca. "I haven't seen Steve Walker's ghost yet, but if you say he's around, I'll take your word for it. 'Cause that's what friends do."

I step outside to put my used clothes down the laundry chute, then return to the room and sit on my bed, twitching with nervous anticipation. "You know," I say tentatively, "I'm not so sure we should keep calling Steve and them ghosts, you know?"

"Um, isn't that, like, the dictionary definition of the word 'ghost?'" Luca asks. He taps something on his keyboard.

"You're not actually looking it up right now, are you?"