Part 4 (1/2)

”Oh, s.h.i.+t!” yelled the girl.

George shook his arm and slapped at the creeper's head. The man's teeth were caught in his sleeve, but he got it free. He took a few steps away from the man. The woman took a few steps back, too. She glanced at the arm. ”Are you okay?”

”Yeah, it's fine. He didn't even break the skin.”

”Lucky. You'd probably need half a dozen shots.”

The creeper straightened up as if he wore a backpack full of weights. His head s.h.i.+fted side to side. His teeth gnashed together four times. One of them cracked and a gleaming piece of enamel spun to the ground.

George lunged forward, put his hands on the man's shoulders, and shoved. The pale man staggered back, hit the back b.u.mper of the car, and tipped over backward. His skull bounced off the trunk with a loud clang, and his body flopped on the pavement between the sedan and a red minivan.

”s.h.i.+t,” said the woman. ”I think you killed him with your karate.”

”I didn't kill him.”

”He's not moving.”

The body on the ground moved. It groaned once. It rolled over. The oversized teen blinked twice, then twice again. ”Whoooooo,” he said. He burped and the smell of cheap beer wafted across George. ”You have an awesome rack,” the teen said to the side of the car.

”a.s.shole,” said the woman. ”You broke my phone.”

George stared at the teen. Down between the cars, out of the direct sun, his skin didn't seem so pale, and his eyes were a faint blue, not the dull gray they'd looked like in the light. The side of his nose was covered with Magic Marker, and there were half-removed traces of it across his face. His hair had the stylishly rumpled look of someone who spent a lot of time making it look like they spent no time on their hair.

The creeper gave a drunken cackle. He rolled onto all fours and scampered between the cars. Once he was clear he staggered back to his feet and lurched away toward the crowds of students and parents.

”a.s.shole,” she yelled after him.

”Do you want to call security?” asked George. ”I saw it all.”

The woman didn't even look at him. ”Do you know who he is?”

”No.”

”Well, that's not going to help, is it? G.o.ddammit,” she muttered, cradling the cracked phone, ”I had plans for tonight.”

George opened his mouth to say something else but she was already walking past him to her car. He looked after the creeper and caught a glimpse of the man stumbling through the crowd. He thought about calling security, but the girl was right. ”Drunken frat boy” wasn't much of a description.

Plus, George admitted, he wasn't sure what the young man had looked like. He'd been so confident about the pale eyes and the torn nose, but it must've been his imagination. Probably from the girl, Madelyn, talking about dead people.

His Nextel chirped. ”George,” it tw.a.n.ged. ”Where the h.e.l.l are you, buddy? What's keeping you?”

He unholstered the phone. The whole half hour was gone. At this point he was running late. ”Sorry, Jarvis,” said George. ”I got held up. A girl got jumped.”

”Jesus. Y'all okay?”

”Yeah, she's fine. Just a frat boy copping feels. I got him off her.”

”Security there?”

The woman's car started up and pulled out. She didn't even glance at George. ”Nope,” he said. ”Once he was off her they both took off.”

”Y'all want to make a report anyway? Just in case?”

”I'm pretty sure it was nothing.”

”Well, then hurry it up,” his boss told him. ”I had Mark punch your card for you. You know they're getting all n.a.z.i about overtime.”

”Yeah,” said George, ”I know. I'm about five minutes away. See you soon.”

He clipped the Nextel back onto his belt and took one last look over his shoulder. The shuffler had vanished into the human traffic between buildings. It struck George that he should go after the man, that the attack wasn't nothing, but he couldn't say why.

THEN.

I FALL THROUGH the air.

There's a crowd of people below me, gathered in the street. It's dark out, but there are hundreds of people. Maybe thousands. I'm not sure what's brought so many people out at night.

Then, as one, they look up at me. Every head tips back at once, every set of eyes finds me at the same time. I see their eyes and remember I'm in the bad dream again. Dull irises stare at me. A constant stream of silent words pours from their jaws.

And there's something else in the crowd. Something huge. An even bigger monster than the ones around me, twice as tall with mottled, scaly skin. Its arms and legs are long and thin, and its tail lashes like an angry snake. It has curling horns and dozens of long teeth, but the same dull eyes.

I hit the ground behind the big monster, feet first. Some part of my mind knows falling from that height means I'm dead. The impact shakes me, but-as things happen in dreams-I don't break any bones. I don't even feel any pain.

One of the monster-people grabs at me and I kick it away. Another one reaches for me and I shove it back with my foot. I turn and one of them is right in front of me. It'd been a dark-haired man with a stubbly face. One of its eyes is gone. The empty socket looks sticky.

I throw a punch that catches the monster on the jaw. Like falling from the sky, I barely feel it when I connect. It's as if the monster's head is just a paper sculpture. The skull bursts like a monster pinata. One side collapses under my punch and dark gore sprays out the other side. The monster crumbles to the ground. I've killed it.

No, I tell myself. I look at the dark stains on my knuckles. I haven't killed it. It's already dead. It's dead and walking around.

There's a name for a creature like this, but in the hazy world of the dream I can't remember it.

One of them paws at me from behind. I drive my elbow back and hear a crunch like a breaking bird's nest. My fist comes forward, takes the head right off another monster, and the ball of bone and flesh spins off into the horde. A second punch turns one of their faces into dark jelly. A sweeping backhand crushes two skulls.

And then the big creature's in front of me. It isn't just a monster, I realize. It's a demon. A real-life, actual demon.

Past the demon stands a spiked wall with people on it. Living people. They have guns. They're shooting the big thing and also the little ones. The instant I see them I feel like I know them, the way strange faces are familiar in dreams.

The demon holds on to the wall, on to the gate, with spider-like hands. The long fingers wrap around the spikes and pull. The gate shakes and squeals from its efforts.

I don't think. There's no time to think.

I grab the creature's tail. The beast is three times my size, probably four times my weight. I throw my shoulders back, pull, and the strange physics of this world take over. The creature flies into the air. It sails over my head and crashes to the ground behind me.