this one was vivid. He dreamed of his wife, Cholie, and his daughter, Samantha. They are playing ball, tossing it back and forth on a beautiful summer day. The birds fly above. The wind grazes their faces.
His daughter laughs.
His wife's smile is embedded forever on her face.
LT is across the street. Waving frantically.
His daughter is still laughing.
His wife still smiling.
They inch near the street. Waving to him as he frantically waves back. He screams out, but no words sound. They begin to cross.
And he's frozen, unable to move, unable to scream out.
And the car shoots through the stop sign, hitting them both.
They never saw it coming.
LT shot out of bed. He sat up, breathing hard, sweating, tears in his eyes. "What was that?" he says aloud.
It took him a few minutes to gather himself. LT looked around, siz ed up the room, realized where he was.
Finally, his heart rate slows; his breathing goes back to normal. LT swung his feet off the bed, touching the shag carpet and pushing his toes into it. This soothes him, and he takes a bit longer before standing up. Next, LT looks across the room to the illuminated clock. It reads: 2:44am.
C hapter 12
The industrial building once hosted a massive machine shop. It was now two decades vacant and condemned. The building was situated near nothing, in the middle of nowhere along a lone dirt road. Overgrown weeds and mangled trees were outside, some pushing up into the metal sides of the building. The windows were mostly shattered, many long ago boarded up. Inside, the open space was dark, dusty. Large heaps of metal and machinery left behind are covered by drapes. Off in the back are stairs leading to another level, and a hallway leading to more corridors, which were once offices.
A woman screams. But despite her efforts, her screams weren't heard. She was wasting her energy, but she couldn't help herself. She continued, bawling and crying out, hoping someone, anyone, would hear.
"Pleeeasse!" She begged. "Let me go!"
Two bikers dragged her by her feet. Each held one leg, pulling her on her back over the dirt. She protested in violent fashion, kicking and screaming the entire way. It d idn't seem to matter much. Her fight had no effect on the two bikers. They neared the building, stopping a moment to unlock the large front doors. The woman looked up, her face coated in dirt, her hair wet with blood from being dragged over rocks. She looked up and inside a broken window. She saw a light coming from a room in the far back corner of the building. It was dim and cast shadows.
She kicked and screamed to no avail as the bikers reached down, grabbing her legs ag ain, and pulled her into the building. The large metal doors swung heavily, slamming shut behind her. She was now in complete darkness.
But the two bikers seemed to see just fine. They raced on, pulling her over the dusty concrete floor. Around huge machinery, they raced on. Turning left, they entered a narrow corridor, slamming her head against the wall.
She nearly went out. She struggled against their strength, but made no impact. They were invincible. She was weak. She beat her arms, scratched her nails against the wall as she was pulled down the dark hallway. They turned another corner and entered a room. It was dimly lit, and the woman blinked, attempting to remove the dust from her eyes. One was bloodshot, the other blackened from their attack.
Then, they stopped. They dropped her legs, which landed with a thud on the hard surface. She moaned, spitting out two teeth and coughing on her blood. Terror filled her. A sense of dread overcame the woman; she knew this was it - this moment of terror was the last feeling she would ever feel. Looking around, hoping for escape, the woman plotted and planned, but nothing of value came to her. The two bikers stood close. They beamed with excitement, happy to please their master.
Then she saw him. Santana—the demon king. He sat high up on his throne, surrounded
His daughter laughs.
His wife's smile is embedded forever on her face.
LT is across the street. Waving frantically.
His daughter is still laughing.
His wife still smiling.
They inch near the street. Waving to him as he frantically waves back. He screams out, but no words sound. They begin to cross.
And he's frozen, unable to move, unable to scream out.
And the car shoots through the stop sign, hitting them both.
They never saw it coming.
LT shot out of bed. He sat up, breathing hard, sweating, tears in his eyes. "What was that?" he says aloud.
It took him a few minutes to gather himself. LT looked around, siz ed up the room, realized where he was.
Finally, his heart rate slows; his breathing goes back to normal. LT swung his feet off the bed, touching the shag carpet and pushing his toes into it. This soothes him, and he takes a bit longer before standing up. Next, LT looks across the room to the illuminated clock. It reads: 2:44am.
C hapter 12
The industrial building once hosted a massive machine shop. It was now two decades vacant and condemned. The building was situated near nothing, in the middle of nowhere along a lone dirt road. Overgrown weeds and mangled trees were outside, some pushing up into the metal sides of the building. The windows were mostly shattered, many long ago boarded up. Inside, the open space was dark, dusty. Large heaps of metal and machinery left behind are covered by drapes. Off in the back are stairs leading to another level, and a hallway leading to more corridors, which were once offices.
A woman screams. But despite her efforts, her screams weren't heard. She was wasting her energy, but she couldn't help herself. She continued, bawling and crying out, hoping someone, anyone, would hear.
"Pleeeasse!" She begged. "Let me go!"
Two bikers dragged her by her feet. Each held one leg, pulling her on her back over the dirt. She protested in violent fashion, kicking and screaming the entire way. It d idn't seem to matter much. Her fight had no effect on the two bikers. They neared the building, stopping a moment to unlock the large front doors. The woman looked up, her face coated in dirt, her hair wet with blood from being dragged over rocks. She looked up and inside a broken window. She saw a light coming from a room in the far back corner of the building. It was dim and cast shadows.
She kicked and screamed to no avail as the bikers reached down, grabbing her legs ag ain, and pulled her into the building. The large metal doors swung heavily, slamming shut behind her. She was now in complete darkness.
But the two bikers seemed to see just fine. They raced on, pulling her over the dusty concrete floor. Around huge machinery, they raced on. Turning left, they entered a narrow corridor, slamming her head against the wall.
She nearly went out. She struggled against their strength, but made no impact. They were invincible. She was weak. She beat her arms, scratched her nails against the wall as she was pulled down the dark hallway. They turned another corner and entered a room. It was dimly lit, and the woman blinked, attempting to remove the dust from her eyes. One was bloodshot, the other blackened from their attack.
Then, they stopped. They dropped her legs, which landed with a thud on the hard surface. She moaned, spitting out two teeth and coughing on her blood. Terror filled her. A sense of dread overcame the woman; she knew this was it - this moment of terror was the last feeling she would ever feel. Looking around, hoping for escape, the woman plotted and planned, but nothing of value came to her. The two bikers stood close. They beamed with excitement, happy to please their master.
Then she saw him. Santana—the demon king. He sat high up on his throne, surrounded
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