Sleeper Code by Thomas E. Sniegoski

Author:Thomas E. Sniegoski
Language: vie
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

TOM LOVETT CAME awake with a start, the memory of his latest narcoleptic attack painfully fresh in his mind.

Hoping that he'd only been asleep for a short time, he raised himself up on his elbows and looked around.

"Mom? Dad?" he called out, his eyes taking in his foreign surroundings. "Madison?" An anxious lump formed in his throat; he was desperate for a familiar presence.

He appeared to be in a cabin, sparsely furnished with slip-covered furniture, hardwood floors, and a large stone fireplace, a fire blazing within.

"I ... I've been here before," Tom said aloud in sudden realization as he climbed to his feet. His eyes caught sight of a large fish—a bass, stuffed and mounted on a plaque hanging above a bookcase crammed with leather-bound books that he'd known would be there. Gradually he was starting to remember this place, but he didn't have the slightest idea why, or how, he had come to be there now.

"Hello, Tom," a voice said behind him, and he whirled around to find a man with a wild head of snow white hair sitting in a wingback chair in the corner, a halo of smoke from the pipe he was puffing on drifting above his head. "I'm sure this all seems a bit odd right now, but if you'll give me a chance . .."

"You," Tom gasped, horrifying imagery—memories of an old man feeding a fire, then dying violently as his chest was struck with bullets—filling his mind. "In a dream ... I watched you die."

The old man calmly smoked his pipe. "If you are here with me now, that's probably so," he said sadly. Then his eyes glazed over and he seemed to become lost in thought. "Actually, if you're here with me, then I am most definitely dead." His eyes snapped back into focus and he returned his attention to Tom. "And you were my killer," he stated, pulling the pipe from his mouth and jabbing at him with its stem.

Tom's body tingled with panic. He had to get away from this place—this crazy old man. He had to get home, where it was safe.

"I can't stay here." He headed across the room, knowing where the door would be.

"You don't want to do that, Tom," the old man called out behind him, grunting as he pulled himself up out of the chair. "You're better off here with me, at least for a little while longer."

Tom strode down the hallway with purpose, the hardwood floor creaking beneath his feet. He knew that if he stayed another second, he would lose his mind. He had to get home.

"Tom, don't," the old man pleaded from the end of the hall.

But Tom wasn't listening. He reached out and grabbed the metal doorknob. It was cold to his touch, so cold that it stuck to the flesh of his hand. But that didn't stop him. He threw open the door. And nothing could have prepared him for what awaited him outside the cabin.

Nothing.

Nothing, for as far as his eyes could see, an ocean of darkness spread out before him.

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