Who Corey Was

41

A tall boy walked in front of me. We made our way down a darkened hall in a house. I couldn't see his face. We emerged into a lighter area and I caught a glimpse of his sandy hair. And...all of this felt familiar.

Focus.

Something wasn't right. I tried to shake myself out of it.

Focus!

I couldn't move, couldn't change my path. I simply had to follow the scene as it played out.

So, I studied the boy as I followed him. Light brown hair, as I'd noticed, cropped close at the back, longer at the top. A pale neck dipping into a light blue fitted tee. Lean shoulders. Not too skinny, not too muscular. A defined back, slightly athletic.

Then there was a flash, and everything changed. I was watching through a distant window. I couldn't save him.

I awoke with a gasp. Adam. I struggled to catch my breath, trying to ground myself. My gaze darted around the van, landing on Dylan's back in front of me, my arm draped around his waist, the back of his neck, his light brown hair, cropped in the back but longer on top...

My arm jerked from around his waist and I scooted back across the bench. I shuddered as I re-examined him again. Maybe it wasn't that similar. A coincidence. Plenty of lean, athletic young males had the same hairstyle. He rolled in his sleep, his serene face upturned in deep slumber.

I shook off all thought, pushing the dream to the back of my mind. Without jostling Dylan, I climbed into the front passenger seat.

"Can't sleep?" Xander asked quietly from behind the wheel.

"Um, yeah. Bad dream. What time is it?" I said quickly.

"Almost midnight."

We lapsed into a comfortable silence as I stared out the window at the passing forest. We were on a lonely stretch of highway with one other car far behind us. I watched its headlights calmly drifting in the side mirror. We rounded a curve in the road, and the lights disappeared temporarily.

Xander spoke quietly. "So, your bad dream. Do you want to talk about it? Was it a memory?"

I barely heard what he said. My blood had gone cold. My heart was in my throat, and my stomach had plummeted.

The car behind us had come around the bend, hitting a slight bump in the road. As the car bounced, the right headlight flickered. I knew that car.

"We're being followed," I said loudly.

"What?" Xander hissed, looking in the rear view. The others stirred.

"We're being followed, Xander!"

Dylan was awake now. "Are you sure? It could just be another car."

"I know that car. Xander, drive!"

Xander hit the gas. The speedometer spiked, and we soon lost the headlights behind. "Better to be safe," Xander said.

But on a lone stretch of highway in the middle of the forest in a beat-up fixer upper of a van, they were bound to catch us eventually.

The engine sputtered and the speedometer dipped. "Shit," Xander swore.

"What's happening?" Alice asked.

"Something's wrong with the engine," Xander said. "We have to pull over."

A fine tremble had taken over my body. I didn't like this at all. "Grab your packs," I told them. "Roll up the sleeping bags and strap them on."