February 29

Chapter 6

I woke literally soaked in sweat, my heart racing. My face was pale and, if I looked in the mirror hard enough, I could see tinges of red. The blood literally drained from my body. I was breathing as if I'd just run a mile. I shivered and sunk back into the bed...whosever bed it was. I hid under the covers that seemed to magically appear and tried to get warm. Cold. So cold now. How?

With an unknown instinct, I sat up abruptly and stared at my hands, pale white in the darkness. My hands. Was there something wrong with them? I peered closer, paying attention to each detail. Average sized fingers, with short but not too short nails. Regular palms, my lifeline, all the creases, they were all there. They looked normal. Of course they did. Why would I think they weren't? I shook my head in confusion, wondering why I was wondering about it in the first place. This was getting too weird, too much. People don't just wake up, whiter than the moon, and stare at their hands as if they'd been scarred or whatever. In fact, a lot of things don't happen. Bright lights don't just appear in the sky. A giant dot that should have been the moon but wasn't doesn't cover up the sun. A smacking noise loud enough to crumble buildings and shatter glass doesn't just resonate, as if something like that were regular. But most of all, giant airy dogs don't just pop up and start attacking people. Giant endless coated dogs with black fur don't just attack people. Dogs with white, blazing eyes and a cloak of fire. Dogs with row after row of blades for teeth, going so far deep into its mouth that you could see them piling into its throat. Dogs that-

HUNGRY.

A sound louder than anything I've heard hit me all at once. It was so deafening that I wondered how my eardrums remained intact, not splatted messily on the ground like I thought they'd be. I sank back into the bed, shivering under the warm covers. That was it. That was all I needed. Warmth. A small smile curled at my lips. Warmth, and a good dream. A dream filled with happiness and love and fun, but definitely no dogs. No black-furred dogs, with eyes white with rage and-

"Hey," someone whispered. I froze in horror, then realized it was Dean. A lamp switched on, bathing the whole room in light. I flinched. "You okay?"

"Where are we?" I said hoarsely. I'd seemed have lost my voice.

"We're in my room," he replied.

"Your room? What?"

"Look around," Dean said, laughing a little. "Don't you recognize it?"

I slowly surfaced from the blanket and cast nervous glances around the room. Definitely Dean's room. The whole place was plagued by the red, yellow and blue diamonds from the Steelers. Signed photos of football players and one football signed by all hung behind a glass door. Steelers hats, jackets and shirts were laid neatly on a chair. Dean's room.

"What happened?" I groaned tiredly. I tried to sit up. Suddenly, my head was assaulted by a wave of pain. It felt like hot plates were squishing my brains together, burning and searing them as they did so. I cried out and sunk back into the bed-Dean's bed-pulling the pillow over my head. But as quickly as it came, it was gone.

"Well, I can't tell you everything," Dean said uneasily. He made a queasy face. "I was just running towards you and then...it felt...like some giant black cloud just shrouded my vision. I couldn't see you or the dog. It was confusing. Like time just stopped and I was frozen still."

"Then what?"

Dean smirked slowly. "Then a streetlight turned on."

I stared hard at him for a while. "What?"

"It disappeared. One minute there, the next minute, gone." He shifted his gaze. "You looked dead. You were deadly pale and your lips were blue. But there were no wounds, no bites. I think, I don't know if it bit you again."

"How long...?"

"Only a couple of hours," Dean replied. "And you need to lay off the biscuits man. You're heavy as crap." He paused. "Are you okay now?"

"Of course I am," I said blandly. "Why?"

"I don't know," he said cynically. "If I'd been attacked by a giant dog, I think I'd at least be wary."

"I am wary," I protested, doing a quick body check for anymore bites. None.

"My god, Ethan. What were you thinking?"

"Huh?" I asked absentmindedly, suddenly weary.

"Look dude. I know you're smart. You can solve polynomials and quadratic formulas and whatever, but you were running towards that dog like it was your best friend."

"What?" I glanced at him. "I wasn't running towards a dog."

"Yes, you were," he insisted.

"It was a kid. He called for help. Remember?"

"Oh crap. Now you're seeing things. That's the people who die first in movies. The people who have visions." He shook his head. "Come on, man. You've watched Carrie and The Shining."

"So you're saying you didn't see a little kid, could have been five years old, maybe six?" I asked despairingly. What was wrong with me?

"For Christ's sakes, no," Dean said, stifling a yawn. "You need a nice long nap. All of this is going to your head." He let out a full yawn this time, stretching his arms. "Oh yeah. You were muttering in your sleep."

I went cold. I didn't remember my dream - I never remember them- but for some reason I didn't want to think so hard into it. Something seemed...sinister about it. "Oh yeah? What did I say?" I asked with dread.

"Something about being hungry," he said, looking up in thought. "Delicious. And...oh yeah. You said, 'Feed me. Feeeeeed me.'"

A large fit of chills hit me all at once. I fell back against the bed, rubbing my arms to get some warmth. The covers weren't working as well as they were before.

"Dude," Dean said in worry. "Seriously, you should get some rest."

"Yeah," I said shakily. "I'm tired."

"We'll deal with all this tomorrow," he promised.

"Sounds good."

"Good night."

"Yep."

"If I come here in the middle of the night, I'm just checking on you. Just to see if you are, you know, okay."

I managed to laugh. "Get out of here, Dean," I chuckled. "And turn off that damn light."