Jesse wiped his brow, discovering that he was breaking out in a sweat. Bryce wasn’t, but he was fretting more over Alex. “Could it be using him to boost its signal? I swear that thing’s a thousand times worse. It’s like I’m getting nauseous and drowning.”
“Good a theory as any.”
“Then we have to separate them. It’s the only way this will stop.” Jesse wrapped the evidence bag around his hand. “I’ll grab it, you grab him, and then we pull apart.”
Before Bryce could try to reason him out of it, Jesse took hold of the statue.
The world spun and sucked him down in a gut-wrenching whirl. Darkness took him. A high-pitched whine filled Jesse’s ears until his whole being reverberated with the sound. He fell to his knees, only he tumbled over and over through the dark. Then he found the floor, but his hands touched stone instead of linoleum. Gray-white light penetrated the shadows and the world came into focus.
He wasn’t in the interrogation room. Heavy gray clouds dominated the sky, and tall buildings cast shadows upwards as well as across the ground. Any sign of color was absent. Even his own body and clothing was fading fast to blend in. The world was gray on gray, deepening to shades of fuzzy black and brightening to spots of sickly white. It smelled of ash and clogged Jesse’s nose to the point he gagged on the first deep breath he took.
This place couldn’t be real, and yet he was in the middle of it. Lawson had mentioned showing. The vision could be an illusion in Jesse’s mind, or a shared hallucination with Alex.
He didn’t see Alex. Either the statue only gave out visions after all and Jesse was in for a weird trip, or the mental projection into this world didn’t mean they’d land together.
Until he knew whether or not he was alone, Jesse had to believe Alex was somewhere in this hellscape. Maybe if he could shake Alex out of this vision, then he’d break free too. The buildings stretched as far as he could see, but they couldn’t be endless. The kid had to be somewhere.
God, he really hoped Bryce could find a way to save them if he was wrong.
Jesse sucked in a deep breath of the foul air and called out, “Alex!”
Only he didn’t call out. For all the effort he put into shouting for Alex, only a whisper of sound came out of him. Jesse took in another deep breath, preparing to try again.
A slithering of cloth and flesh against stone interrupted him. The sound came from behind and Jesse spun to face it. A mottled-gray, cloaked figure made its way up the hill toward Jesse. It had too much grace, like water that found a way to drip through a mountain. As it neared him, it shifted. Its hood fell back and a nebulous head shape began to take more form. An octopus-like head becoming a human one.
It was trying to become human. The smile that broke out, that took up too much of its face, was wrong. More than manic, more predatory than anything else. Then it croaked out the same whisper of sound Jesse had made, imitating him.
Fuckthat. Jesse took drunken steps away, but his feet were weighed down like concrete. The creature mimicked his movements. Its arms were still tentacles and the suckers on them were tiny mouths. They snapped at Jesse as it reached for him.
He crashed to his knees, reached for the wall, and pulled himself up. Another creature hissed and lunged at him from a window. He toppled back and hit the ground. The creature flowed out of the window.
Jesse scrambled to get back on his feet, but he crashed to his knees.
Bryce.
Bryce was stone, but he wasn’t like this cold, desolate place. He was warmth and a shield against evil in a world too full of it. He was human and familiar. Jesse focused on him.
The creature hissed and snarled at him, and the sounds grated through Jesse, trying to tear at his soul.
He was stronger than that. He wasn’t scared of the creature. He was scared he’d never see Bryce again. Never hold him, never find out what loving him could feel like.
As the creature came toward him, Jesse backed away and he fell.
He fell through darkness and screamed, but no sound came out. He was falling… falling… No sense of ground, no sense of anything around him.
Then he was back in his body. The slam of awareness, of feeling the cool air and the way his lungs gasped for breath, drew a sob from Jesse. He was on his back and his head was in someone’s lap. Jesse swallowed, bile flavoring his mouth in unsavory ways, and opened his eyes.
Bryce. His head was in Bryce’s lap. When Jesse opened his eyes, Bryce gave him a comforting smile, but tiny lines of tension haunted his eyes.
Jesse had never been so relieved in his whole life. He searched for Bryce’s hand and found it. Clasped onto him. The nightmare threatening to take back his mind subsided and he could drink in deep breaths of air. Jesse was torn between needing to sit up and never wanting to move. Bryce had a great lap. Not quite as good as crawling in bed with him, but still good.
There was a shuffle of movement, and Jesse startled, thinking the statue was coming after him. Bryce put a hand on his shoulder to keep him down. “It’s fine,” he murmured.
“How is he?” Rowland asked.
“He’s not vomiting, so that’s a good sign,” Bryce replied. “I hope. Can you find something cold?”
“Fuck no, not cold.” Jesse struggled to sit up, but he kept his hand clasped around Bryce’s. “Warm washcloth or something. And mouthwash.”
