Romantic love story

Chapter Ten: Lifeline

Dreams tumbled past Terry in a grotesque way of making the nonsensical seem utterly real. Images of adolescence blurred with the present, and he stood as a child on the shore of Three Mile Bay, the wind full in his face and the sun warming his back.

Without warning, the air turned frigid. Darkness slicked over the heavens like an overturned can of black paint. Cold settled into his body, chilling him from the inside out.

"Terry."

Someone spoke behind him. A shockwave of dread exploded within his chest, and his feet froze in place. He jammed fingers in his ears, shouted the words to "Jesus Loves Me" until the force of the voice shoved him to his hands and knees. Pain seared him from behind, and he slammed face down into the sand. The taste of dirt filled his mouth, gritted between his teeth as the pain bore down. It felt as though the universe had fallen from the sky to crush him.

Far worse than the pain, was the pleasure.

"You're no different than me. Oh, you wanted this."

Shame seared him with an unquenchable heat. He heard the crackle of flames, forced open his eyes and saw hell yawning before him in livid color.

"You wanted this, so you're just as bad as me. Give me your hand."

Terry's hand yanked up until it felt the owner of the voice. Touch filled him with curious dread, and the smell of sweat filled his nostrils to the point of choking.

"Jesus loves me, this I know." A child sang in the distance, and he recognized it as himself.

He struggled to breathe, to force air into his lungs and cough out sand.

"For the Bible tells me so."

That voice. The cool hope of it made the heat sizzle and hiss, like water coming into contact with flame.

"Little ones to Him belong, they are weak, but He is strong."

Pain coursed through him, then cruelly intense pleasure. Dirt forced its way down his throat and he screamed to make it stop. He cried out to God, and even in his torment, he knew God had not forgotten him.

"Terry." A voice blurred over the panic, both familiar and welcome. It called, and yet the pain continued to knife through him without mercy. "Terry, wake up."

Some part of him knew it was a dream, and yet, he couldn't wake up. Not on his own.

"Water. Izumi, a glass of water-- hurry."

The urgency of the voice sent fresh panic into Terry. What was wrong? Why was John so frightened? He strained to find John, but continued to be pulled under by the flames, the scalding heat.

Someone shook him and he struck out in self-defense. Then cold splashed across his face.

"Hey, wake up. Come on, Buddy, don't make me fight you." The one who shook him was John, and the realization of it stopped Terry's flailing.

Safety no longer seemed out of reach, and it encouraged him to fight against the pull of sleep. Now he was certain it was a dream. Darkness, then light, blinked before him. He forced his eyes wide open.

His friend was above him. No phantom to trick him into relief, but actual flesh and blood.

"Take a moment to calm down. Terry, calm down."

It took a moment for Terry to realize he was gasping for breath. His chest was tight, his pajamas soaked with sweat, his hands clenched in white-knuckled fists.

But he was alive.

Terry didn't dare close his eyes, feeling the force of the nightmare still fresh on his consciousness.