Transition: Chapter 23 (Dreamscape)

She’s running, but not in a race. She’s moving through the deserted streets of an anonymous city, looking for something. Or perhaps trying to escape from something. A sleek, white limousine shadows her silently, radiating an eerie malevolence. She glances down each street that she passes. She’s not surprised to find that none of them is the one she’s looking for.

The limo pulls up to her left, purring softly, matching her speed. The window begins to slide down, and she knows that Sunshine will be there, sitting in the passenger seat. But it turns out to be Nathan. Or someone like him. Or some thing like him. But with much more hair. In fact, as she looks again, it’s not human at all, it’s some kind of animal, a dog, or perhaps an ape. The only similarity to Nathan is the pair of sunglasses wrapped around its head, resting grotesquely on its pointy snout.

Look into my eyes, the thing says, but not with Nathan’s voice, it has a pronounced Indian accent, and it’s almost singing, something in a mystically minor key, it sounds icily evil. And she does look, although she knows that she shouldn’t, but she has to prove to the creature that she’s not afraid to look it in the eye. But as it turns out, she can’t see its eyes anyway, they’re obscured by the dark glasses.

See, she thinks, there isn’t anything to be afraid of after all. There never is.

But then it pulls its glasses off with a motion that’s too quick for her to follow, and its eyes are not eyes at all, they’re glowing embers that flash with terrible fires. And she knows that if she keeps looking into those eyes, all is lost. But the only alternative is to slow down, to stop running...

Of course! That’s exactly what the Nathan-creature wants her to do! It’s all a trick to get her to quit. But she’s not a quitter. She’ll never quit. Never.

But her legs are so heavy, like lead, and it takes an incredible act of will just to lift her feet, just to take one more step. It’s like running through sand, but infinitely more difficult, more painful. In a flash of insight, she realizes that the Nathan-thing is doing this to her. Its eyes do have terrible powers, after all. But she has powers of her own, and no one can stop her.

And then Sunshine comes running by on the other side of the car, and it’s not fair, it’s not fair at all, because Sunshine isn’t being hindered by the powers of the Nathan-beast.

Hi, Jill. Sunshine grins foully. Are you having a hard time, poor baby?

So, in spite of Sunshine’s feigned innocence, she’s in league with the creature, has been all along. Well, if that’s the way they want to play, they’ll regret the day they tangled with Jill Kendal. But the harder she tries, the more tired she gets. And it’s a weariness that not only weighs down her legs but eats through to the depths of her soul.

And it’s not fair. It’s just not fair.

On the other side of the car, Sunshine runs a few easy paces ahead, then turns and begins to run backwards. C’mon Jill, she taunts. Run faster. Faster! What’s the matter? You’re not going to quit on me, are you? Not Jill Kendal! Not the Golden Girl!

And it’s all so frustrating, she has to labor under this enormous strain while Sunshine is as free as a bird. Tell Nathan to let me go, she shouts, and I’ll run rings around you. I’ll run you into the fucking ground, you candy-ass wimp.

But Sunshine only laughs mockingly. Oh sure, Jill, it’s Nathan’s fault; blame it all on somebody else. Well I can’t wait for you any longer, my dear; I’ve got a race to run! And she turns and begins to pull away.

Who the fuck does she think she is? Jillian is suddenly indignant. Does she really think that she can beat me? I’ll make this... this thing let me go, and then I’ll show that bitch who’s in charge...

She looks back at Nathan, she’s going to insist that he let her go. At first, she’s relieved to see that he’s slipped his sunglasses back on. But his eyes have become so bright that she can see them even through the dark lenses. They’re pulsing strangely, growing alternately bright and dim, bright and dim. And each time they brighten, smoldering in their sockets, they emit a harsh buzz, a persistent, jarring sound that fills her head...

Make it stop! she demands angrily, covering her ears with her hands. Make it stop!

And when she opens her eyes, she’s lying in bed with her hands over her ears, saying, “Make it stop!” out loud, over and over again, to the empty hotel room. Disoriented, she reaches for the phone, more to silence it than to answer it...