Shattered Remnants of a Dream

Chapter 4: Demons

Vance hurried through the dark hall and burst out into the second floor. He peered across the concrete expanse and just barely caught the end of a scuffle between the mangy man and an elderly woman who was sitting in a brown Buick. Desperate, and clearly out of his mind, the man ripped the woman from her vehicle with one hand and dove inside. Vance's eyes widened, and the car

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zoomed down the road as Cliff's eyes carefully scanned the streets. Spotting the flicker of police lights down the road, the gunman sharply swerved the Oldsmobile in a U-turn and began driving in the opposite direction.

"What kinda music you listen to?" Cliff asked awkwardly, as he fiddled with the FM/AM radio.

She shuddered softly. "Um, it doesn't matter." With every new moment, she felt more and more unsafe. She had gone with Cliff because she wanted to feel that the nightmare was over, that everything was okay again, but she was starting to regret that decision now.

Cliff glanced at her nervously. "I don't believe I got your name?"

"Oh." She looked down and bit her lower lip. What have I done? He could be another kidnapper, or worse...

"May I ask for it?"

"Eden," she answered, raising her head. "I'm sorry for being so, I dunno, shy, but...I'm scared."

"Well, you're safe now." Cliff moved his free hand and softly took hers. "You can trust me. I'm not going to hurt you."

She froze, feeling a stronger fear rise up into her throat. In the next moment, she recoiled, pulling her hand back. Half of her wanted to trust him, while the other half wanted to throw up.

"I can sense psynergy in you," he said. "But I guess you don't know what that is, either. That must be why they were after you. How should I put this...well, it's hard to explain...hey, he shot at you, didn't he? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Eden quickly insisted, fingering the clean hole in her T-shirt.

"You sure?" Cliff asked. "You aren't bleeding or anything?"

"Where are we going?!" Eden shouted. "Why do you need to avoid the police? Because you killed that man? You were just saving me!"

"It's more complicated than that." Cliff's paranoid eyes continued to scan the streets. "But now isn't really the time to explain!"

Suddenly, a black car turned out of a side alley, blocking their way. Wheels screeched

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as Vance ran in pursuit of the car. Behind the wheel was the clock thief, gripping the wheel furiously with bony knuckles. The brown Buick skidded along the curving path as it descended to the next level of the parking garage, leaving Vance in its dust. Realizing that his legs alone wouldn't do the job, Vance leaned over the edge of the cement barrier and looked down to the next floor.

With a quick inhale, he hopped off the edge and landed roughly nine feet lower. His legs hurt, but he could handle it.

Dashing around the next loop, Vance caught sight of the car again. It swirled clumsily around another curve, and he knew there was one way he could easily catch up with it. After a few more seconds, he took a second leap downward and landed with a loud smack on the dirty hood of the car as it continued to fly forward.

A half hour ago, the teenager wouldn't have taken a flying dive onto a speeding car for anything - or anyone, for that matter. But that clock had changed something inside of him...and he would have it, no matter what it took.

This is a test.

Vance turned his face up to the windshield, gritting his teeth furiously and staring at the driver with desperate eyes. Fear colored the vagrant's expression, but Vance could also see something cold and dead behind his eyes.

Then, the driver's eyes widened, and he began to panic. Keeping a firm hold on the bottom of the windshield, Vance craned his neck around and discovered the problem. In a few more seconds they would reach the garage's exit, which was currently backed up with a line of cars.

Vance turned back to the driver, and he felt an alien energy surge through his body. At that point, everything around him ceased to exist - all he could sense was the presence of some enigmatic power flowing out from the clock that rested on the man's lap.

Mom?

The windshield of the car exploded. Glass filtered out in two steady streams past Vance's shoulders. He rose to his legs and stood on the hood of the car as ribbons of metal were shaved from it. Pieces of the engine dropped out alongside the brake pads, fuel pump, and cleaved pistons. The hubcaps of the car flew out with a deadly screech as the tires were severed by some invisible force. The frame of the 1980 Buick fell to the ground, and all was quiet inside the parking garage.

The dazed vagrant's mouth quivered as he looked up to Vance's face. It wasn't the face of a sullen teenager...it was something inhuman. As his body lit up like a beacon, the unearthly boy gripped a windshield wiper with one hand and reached inside with another.

"Give...me...it!"

As if snapping out of a trance, the dirty man shook his head, threw the clock off his lap and scrambled out of the car. "It's a demon!" he screamed, wildly throwing his body from one step to the next. "Our father...who art in heaven!"

Vance felt his power shatter, and he collapsed on the hood of the ruined vehicle...just as the clock's minute hand gave out a soft click.