Chapter 5—Your Nightmare
Ryle opened his eyes—black rock beneath his feet, barely enough to stand.
He looked up. The same dark sky—the purple moon burning bright, a massive spider crawling across it.
'Not like last time.' He lowered his gaze—a faint crimson tint bled into his vision. The heat. Red sparks drifted through the air, and the temperature pressed against his skin like an open furnace.
Burning red liquid was already creeping up the edges of the rock beneath him. "Whoa!" He yanked his feet up just in time. Scattered rocks dotted the landscape—some large, some barely a foothold—with the liquid churning and bubbling in every gap between them.
"I'll burn alive." He pulled off his hospital gown, wincing hard as his hands moved, and stood there in his inners. "How do I get out?"
He leapt to the nearest rock. 'Straight—' He jumped again.
"Finally..." A voice echoed through the air—his own voice, but wrong. Familiar. But a chill crawled up his spine.
Ryle froze.
He turned his head slowly, too slowly—wrong.
"Ahhh!" He stumbled, one foot nearly slipping into the burning liquid as another Ryle stood there staring at him—same face, deep purple eyes, completely still.
Ryle didn't wait. He leapt left, keeping his eyes locked on the figure the whole way.
Thud!
He turned front—and his pulse shot straight to his throat.
"You think you can escape?" The other Ryle stood directly ahead of him, smiling.
Ryle snapped his head back. Nothing. Empty rock.
A hand closed around his throat—he was yanked into the air.
"Time to die." The other Ryle grinned as orange flames bloomed from his shoulder and crawled down his arm. Ryle kicked, twisted, threw his whole body into it. The grip didn't move. His palms couldn't clench. The flames reached the other Ryle's wrist, just an inch from Ryle's skin.
"Help—" His voice cracked. "Someone save me!"
"This is my world," the other Ryle said quietly.
---
Ryle's hospital room.
"What's happening?" Jasmine whispered, eyes fixed on Ryle's floating body.
"Call a doctor—help!" Sera's voice shattered. Her shoulders were shaking violently. "Someone!"
Ryle hovered above the bed, suspended in pulsing purple energy. Jasmine's eyes darted to the panel of switches beside the bed—she remembered the nurses flooding in when Ava had pressed one. She ran over and slammed it.
"They'll be—" She turned back toward Sera.
Ryle's body exploded with energy.
Purple waves burst through the room and swept both of them off their feet.
Thud!
They hit opposite walls and slid down. Blood streaked the surface behind each of them.
---
Nurses were almost at Ryle's door when Doctor Jasper's voice cut through the hallway speakers.
"This is Doctor Jasper, head of neurosurgery. The hospital has declared a code red. We suspect a bomb on the premises—please evacuate immediately. Patients will be assisted by the remaining staff. All hospital personnel, get patients out on stretchers now."
"A bomb—what?"
"Everyone run!"
The hallway erupted. People poured toward every exit, not looking at anything or anyone. Several staff followed along with the crowd.
But a few stayed.
Nurse Ava grabbed a stretcher and moved fast toward Ryle's room, jaw tight. "I shouldn't have injected him," she muttered. "If something happens to him, that's on me." His legs were fine—without the sedative, he could have walked out himself.
She pushed the door open, and her hands went slack. The stretcher dropped.
Ryle floated above the bed as purple waves rolled off him in pulses. One caught her before she could even flinch and drove her straight into the ceiling.
"Ahh—" She coughed blood on the way down and hit the floor hard, vision fading.
Jasmine, Sera, Nurse Ava—all three, motionless.
---
The purple-skinned man stepped through the front entrance and folded his umbrella. People streamed past him in every direction without a second glance.
An old man being helped along by a younger one called out, "Purple guy—bomb! Run!"
The young man yanked his arm. "Stop it."
The purple man didn't break stride. He moved through the chaos calmly, took a few turns, and climbed the stairs. His eyes found Ryle's room from the hallway. He pushed the doors open.
The room was wrecked—upside down, three people unconscious on the floor, machines broken and sparking. Purple energy poured off Ryle's floating body in waves. The agent stood in the middle of it, completely untouched, a thin layer of purple energy wrapped around him like a second skin.
"Agent—you finally made it." Doctor Jasper grinned from the doorway, one hand gripping the door frame as the waves nearly lifted him off the floor. His long coat fluttered wildly. "Is the threat level high?" he shouted, voice somehow still low against the noise.
"I'll assess," the agent replied, soft and unhurried.
He walked to the bed, noting the deep scratches gouged into the floor where it had been forced back. He climbed onto it, lay flat, and closed his eyes.
His energy rose and reached out—and locked onto Ryle's.
---
Boom!
A concentrated bullet of dark purple energy struck the other Ryle's left temple. His head snapped back, and his grip on Ryle's throat broke. Smoke poured from the point of impact.
Ryle dropped and immediately leapt to the nearest rock, then kept jumping, putting distance between them. He glanced toward where the shot had come from. "You here to help me?"
"You got help?" A manic laugh rippled out from the clearing smoke. "Oh... this is getting interesting. Let's play."
Thud!
Before Ryle could process anything, the agent was standing right in front of him. He slung Ryle over his shoulder.
Ryle's eyes twitched, catching the burning rocks below.
Whoosh!
"Whoa!" The ground vanished. They were airborne, climbing fast. Ryle looked down—the other Ryle stood on a rock far below, completely unharmed as the smoke finished clearing.
"We're high—" Ryle said. "Can anyone actually jump that high—wait, are we just flying?"
"That's what surprises you most right now?" the agent asked flatly.
"No." Ryle shook his head, brows pulling together. "What is that thing and why does it want me dead? How do I stop it?"
The agent sighed. "It's called a Nightmare. And it's yours."
"Mine." Ryle turned the word over. "Like—an actual nightmare? From dreaming?"
"Yes. And it's specifically yours," the agent said. "From your mind."
"My mind?" Ryle tilted his head. "Why did it appear now—and does this happen to everyone?"
"It's your Nightmare," the agent said evenly. "It came from you. Why, how, what fed it—only you know."
"So if it's mine, does that mean I can—"
Thud!
The other Ryle appeared from nowhere and drove a fist into the agent's chest.
Boom!
Ryle launched off the agent's shoulder and plummeted. "Ahh!" He pulled his arms over his head and brought his knees to his chest—tuck position, bracing.
'From me…?'
His whole life flashed through. 'Feed?' He couldn't land on anything. Then, when the rock was below him, something clicked. 'The Nightmare mocked me. Called me ordinary.'
'That's it—'
Boom! He hit the rock, having twisted just enough in the air to land on it rather than beside burning liquid.
Snap!
"Ahh—" His legs buckled on impact, arms screaming. He lay there for a moment, then exhaled. "I survived, good." He looked around—his head was an inch from the burning liquid.
"My emotion fed it," he said, louder now. "My resentment... being ordinary."
His jaw tightened. 'I hated that… more than anything.' It burned hotter than the world around him. He shook his head and pushed himself up. "Now what?"
Boom!
Little further, the agent and the other Ryle clashed—fists, kicks, neither giving ground.