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|Featured Fan Fiction:|
This fan fiction was a Featured Fan Fiction in February 2012. Its layout and content is an example of excellence in the Fanon Namespace.
|A Nightmare on Oak Grove Road|
|Name:||A Nightmare on Oak Grove Road|
|Rating:||Read At Own Risk|
|Number of chapters:||9|
You can run. You can hide. But whatever you do, never sleep again...
A Nightmare on Oak Grove Road is a fan fiction by some horror fanatic that incorporates elements from A Nightmare on Elm Street and The Sims 3.
The residents of Sunset Valley are in terror as a killer is invading their homes and murdering them in their dreams. Literally. It's up to a group of teenagers to stop the madness and fight against the evil of a murderer with power beyond imagination. Or die trying.
My name is River McIrish. I'm a teenage girl who loves art, Indian beats and jogging. I have green eyes and nicely shaded skin. I consider myself to be pretty. Not beautiful. Pretty.
I live in a pretty average financial-class part of town. 330 Oak Grove Road, to be exact. My mom, Fiona, recently let her friend, Molly, and toddler, Sandi, move in with us. Molly's husband disappeared a few months ago, according to my mom.
I love visiting a lady named Claire who lives near us at the beach. She's a nice person to have a decent conversation with, and helps me with advice when I feel moody.
I don't have a large amount of friends, though I'm not reclusive. I get along fine with Holly Alto, a girl who's all 'sunshine and butterflies!' enough get unicorns annoyed. Other then her, there's Ethan and Lisa Bunch. Lisa's...weird. Personally, I dislike her, though her brother's cool. Well, cooler then his siblings, at least. He's smart and loves books, though he's also quite charming.
There's as much a dearth of enemies as there is of friends. VJ Alvi, Parker Langerak and Bebe Hart are the only names that come to mind, really. VJ's a rude little git, and Parker tried to make out with me last year at the school prom after I broke up with him. Bebe's just an incompetent little girl. Long story as to why I think so.
I have a story. As in, the My Story. I know, grammar, but each one of us have a My Story. It's the one that shines through all our other accomplishments and failures. It's the one that's the most funny, the most interesting, or the most sad.
Sometimes, it's the most horrifying. I must warn you, before you read on, that you are about to enter something I wouldn't have been able to imagine in any state of madness nor intoxication. A world where everyone's a possible-victim. Where innocence doesn't exist.
Some of the stuff I'm about to tell you will disturb you. They will sicken you. It will shock you. You might even feel the cold hands of the unknown brush against your neck as you read on. But there is one thing that is certain, and I hope you will listen to my words of advice:
Never sleep again.
Chapter 1 Edit
It was late Saturday afternoon and Ethan, Holly and I sat in Hogan's Deep-Fried diner. The joint was busier then normal, so our food took a while to arrive.
Meanwhile, we sat and studied (or at least tried to) for final exams. All three of us were enrolled in business-studies, so we decided to take turns asking one-another questions from the book.
"In which state is the Simoleon not considered a form of currency?"
I thought hard for a while, but Ethan had the sharper mind.
"Simwaii." he answered. Correctly, according to Holly's nod. Holly asked another round of questions, to which I only answered (incorrectly) to one.
When we were about sixteen pages into Land Grabber's Guide to Bussiness, our meals arrived.
We ate, exchanging stories of the busy week of preparing for examinations.
"Just two more weeks," I said, my voice trailing away at the horrible thought of what came after them.
"Oh," Holly, always a hardcore-optimist, said, "after that, it's vacation!".
"For only a week." Ethan pointed out.
"Still, it's a week." Holly said, taking a bite out of her fries. "And-River, are you okay?"
I wasn't listening. I was staring at the person who had just entered the diner. Other's took notice too. I believed it to be Bebe Hart, though she looked almost nothing like her. Her once elegant blonde hair was messy and pointed in all know directions. Her brown eyes were rimmed with blackish-purple circular bruises, with bags under them, as though she was drained from all energy her body once housed. She tried to walk normal, but stumbled a bit with every few steps. Her drowsiness was as clear as a shining lighthouse in an eclipse.
She caught me staring, and I whipped my head back to my food.
"Wow..." Ethan started. "She's..."
"I've never seen her that tired." Holly said. "She's always so...dynamic..."
I tried to brush it off. Besides, how was it my business as to what went on in her life?
Holly rose from her chair. She was above us now, so it was hard to hear her over the noise in the rest of the room.
"I'm gonna go talk to her. Care to join me?"
I didn't have to answer. Bebe walked to an empty table, and when she passed us, Holly called her.
She turned slowly, and squinted slightly to see who was talking to her. With her current image and her mouth opened, she looked like a zombie.
"Bebe, want to sit with us?" Holly offered.
I hate you Holly. I thought. I hate you with a passion, sometimes.
Bebe hesitated, then took the open seat next to Holly.
"So..." Ethan said. "How's stuff goin'?"
Bebe mumbled something. I think she said "fine".
"Everything fine at home?"
She looked at him. Again: zombie.
"I'm just kinda..." she seemed to look for the words. Her mouth moved open and closed repeatedly.
"Tired?" I helped. Every time she opened her mouth, obviously unbrushed breath exited. It was nauseating.
"Why?" Holly pressed.
"I...I've had some...dreams...that weren't..."
"Nightmares?" I helped again. I felt like a human word-consultant.
"Of what kind?" Holly asked.
Bebe seemed to look down. She was a sad sight, really. Confused and uncleaned, people often act differently.
"You're better off not knowing."
"River!" My mom called. "Could you get the door?"
I switched my computer off and walked out into the hall. I could hear my mom warring with the new laundry machine she had installed again.
I opened the door to see Ethan. He looked pale and saddened by something. I hadn't seen him since the previous afternoon.
"Dude," I started. "What's wrong?"
He held back a tear.
"Bebe's dead. She died last night in her sleep."
Everything about that Sunday night seemed different. It was amorphous, the feeling was. Unidentifiable. It was a feeling most of Sunset Valley never knew. Never thought about expecting.
Foul play was rumored around the death of Bebe Hart.
Ethan had came inside and told me that Bebe was found motionless in her bed by her mother. Apparently, she had died of shock, which was 'natural', though when you live with two certifiably insane parents, others may make the perception of murder. We went to the living room, and sat on the couch. Both of our legs were a bit shaky.
"How do you die of shock? In your sleep?" I asked. The only 'shock' she really knew other then a brief moment of emotion was that of popular culture, like when the famous Emmy Star had been caught in a four-way-relationship scandal.
Ethan shrugged half-heartedly. Then, genius that he was, turned on his 'Encyclopedia Mode'.
"Shock, or acute stress reaction, ASR, is the psychological reaction to something scary or traumatizing. There are various clear symptoms to this," he stopped. "We saw it yesterday."
The wheels in my mind spun to keep up. "So, Bebe had ASR?"
"I believe so. She showed symptoms such as being in a daze, confusion, and she didn't seem quite in the conversation we had with her. Detachment. In the state she was in, it would have likely developed PTSD. Posttraumatic stress disorder."
My mom walked in suddenly, and gave me a hug. I struggled for air.
"Mom!" I said muffled. "You're killing me!"
I regretted saying the words as soon as they escaped my mouth.
"Oh dear," she said, stroking my hair. Someone had called her about the death. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Everything's gonna be alright, okay?"
I told her Ethan already told me the story. She asked me thousands of questions, like "Did you know her from school?" and "Were you good friends."
Ten minutes later, my mom allowed us to have our privacy once more.
Ethan took a few seconds to remember where he left off.
"So, you have the psychological effect of shock, and then you have the physical effect. Then you have the physical effect. Circulatory shock.
I payed (barely) enough attention in the CPR coarse at our school to know what that was. More or less.
"Like a hemorrhagic shock, when you go into shock because of rapid bloodloss?"
Ethan nodded. "But Bebe didn't bleed at all. So, the arteries in and around her heart were obscured, and the flow of blood was impaired, causing a cardiac arrest."
I nodded. He could have just said 'Heart attack' instead of giving me a biology lesson.
"I could be wrong, though. But I think she might have done something other then simply going to bed to induce the heart attack. I simply don't see a nightmare as being the main cause."
"She complained about nightmares at the diner," I pointed out. "So she would have had trouble sleeping. Maybe she took some sleeping pills to help her."
"My eyes have nothing to do with it." I said, and smiled.
"Good mind, then." he said. The tension of the room wasn't as great.
"From a genius, that's a really nice compliment."
He moved closer to me and kissed me on the lips. It was long. Passionate. I closed my eyes, and kissed him back.
Our lips parted after a few moments, and our eyes met. We gazed in each other's, searching for the other's reaction.
"I...that was interesting." I said. If I had a spare leg, I would've kicked myself for saying something that pathetic.
He jumped from his seat. Silently, he walked to the front door. Or skipped. I couldn't tell the difference.
From a different world, he said "See you tomorrow."
So yeah. I basically hooked up with somebody while talking about cardiac arrests. Cool, huh?
Chapter 3 Edit
The next day was uncanny. The entire schoolday routine seemed disrupted as a dark mood hung over it.
At 09:00, my grade were ushered by teachers to listen to a priest help consult us about life and how precious it is. Some people cried. Others couldn't care less.
After a day that passed in the span of centuries, the bell rang to signify it being three in the afternoon.
I seized my bag and swung it over my shoulders. For the last period, we had Literature, and continued reading a book called Unicorns for Audrey.
I hadn't seen Ethan throughout the day. It was both a relief and a disappointment.
I walked down the steps of the school and decided that I would be walking home The bus was full, and I hated riding with other people.
I walked, bag slung over shoulder, past the theater, only to stop dead in my tracks.
Exiting the grocery store was Michael Bachelor, the dubbed 'Jock' of the school. He was a lawbreaker at times who often stayed at home. Illness my butt, I'd always say.
The fact that he wasn't at school for the nineteenth time this semester wasn't what surprised me.
He looked exactly like Bebe Hart the day before she died. Exhausted beyond measurement. Confused. In a daze. Unwashed.
He was only fifteen feet away from me. I think I could have went up to him and kindly ask him what the problem was. I think I could have patted his back kindly, telling him he was probably just suffering from some stress for the exams. Perhaps I could have warned him about the dangers of taking too many sleeping pills in one swallow.
But, in truth, I just hurried past him, keeping my head low and trying to hope for the best.
My body rocketed up into a sitting position. I was breathing heavily, and cold sweat ran down my forehead.
I looked to my right. The alarm clock read 05:38 in green digits, explaining the darkness.
I scanned the room for any abnormalities. I tried to assure myself that what made me wake up was purely cognitive. A simple noise that my dreams deceived to be real.
The voice was a whisper. Barely audible.
"Hello?" I called into the darkness. "Mom? Molly?"
Why would either of them come into my room at this hour?
River...' the voice sounded again. It was female, and when I heard it, a feeling of remembrance struck my senses.
My mouth felt dry. A tremor shot through my spine.
"Hol-Holl-Holly?" I asked. "Holly?"
There was no doubt. Holly's dulcet voice was golden. Unique.
I wanted to reconvene into my sleep. I wanted to ignore the fact that my classmate had intruded my home.
"Holly!" I yelled, and threw the bedsheet out of my path. I scurried to the tip of the bed, jumped off from all fours, landed with a thud, and bolted out the room.
Holly must have gotten injured someone and reached our house for assistance.
"Holly! Where are you!?"
I turned the light on, and jumped back. My scream tore through the night air.
"Holly! Holly!" I screamed, the body of my friend motionless and pale.
River... the voice of the body whispered again. Holly's lips didn't move.
In a different dimension, consciousness, to see my mom shaking me to awake.
"River, River," she repeated, until my eyes opened.
"Come on. You're gonna be late for school."
School passed in a blur. Throughout the day, I was oblivious to all the pieces of advice my educators gave me for the forthcoming exam and to all the other trivial little things that made my usual days so mimicking of the previous one.
The only thing I focused on was Holly Alto.
Tauntingly, she seemed as optimistic to be in school as ever. Where I had nearly relieved my bladder in fear the previous night, she had slept soundly in her mansion.
Even though my eyes were strongly transfixed on her in nearly every classroom, we didn't converse at all.
When I was about two and a half periods away from sweet (temporary) freedom from the school, standing at my locker and searching for my science book, Ethan walked behind to me. He kissed the back of my neck.
"Good Watcher!" I exclaimed. "You shocked me, idiot!"
He put on a face of fake pain. "Oh, that was rude!" he said. "Now what am I going to do with," he reached into his pockets, and pulled out two thin tickets. "these?"
I grabbed one. It was for an exclusive seat at the local Bistro.
"Wow..." I was slightly flabbergasted that he spent §500 per person for them.
"You, me, tonight, Bistro." he said, and casually pulled out my science book from his bag.
"You stole this?" I my arm made another grab. "Seriously, a wallet is understandable. A science book, not so much."
He put his hands on my shoulders, and pulled me closer. He kissed my forehead, then moved to my ear.
"I had to get you here at the right time."
"Aww," I smile. "That's so romantic. In a pickpocketing kind of way."
He frowned, and his brow creased.
"Did you sleep well last night?"
"Yeah, totally." I lied.
His stare made me a bit uncomfortable. The way he seemed to know I was lying by looking into my eye was creepy.
"Cool," he said. "I'll pick you up at seven."
After several of owning a television and countless nights of total boredom, I became a master of trivia.
When I couldn't sleep, I would always go sit in front of the T.V. with a blanket draped over me to watch the late-night reruns of reality game shows I never cared about enough to watch, like Top Trivia. This pasttime has given me an abundance of common knowledge to use in my daily life.
A romantic dinner with a genius like Ethan would have surely required skills in the way of charm, conversation and mathematics.
Don't get me wrong. I don't see him as a geek or anything, though he tended to always sound like one in class.
I'm not really one to talk, as he's the one with an A and I'm the one with the B-.
The night had a stunning lack of things I didn't comprehend coming out of his mouth. He was likely playing dumb for my benefit.
"So," I said, taking a sip of my soda. We were the only couple in the crowded room, and the only one not consuming any alcohol. "how's life?"
Wow, I thought, what an interesting and vague question.
"Pretty good." he said. I kinda got the feeling he was looking at me purposely when he said the words, not just to maintain good-manners.
I could feel my cheeks redden.
Speaking of red, our buttered lobster came served on a silver plate. We started to dine and chatted about a wide array of topics. Firstly about the up-and-coming exams. We both would start next Monday with History, then Science, then we had a day off to study at home, and from that day the order of what we wrote would be different. For example, when I was supposed to write English the next day, he would write Math.
When both of us were tired of talking about the hardships that were to come, we steered the topic to family life.
The conversation then bounced from topic to topic, and yet we both disregarded our desires to talk about Bebe. Death was, after all, quite a taboo topic when spending evening with a date.
Then again, we did more-or-less hook up talking about heart failure.
When it was past nine, he drove me home before kissing me with a deep affection that can only be described as true, unbreakable love. And he payed the bill at the Bistro.
The combination made it the best date I ever had.
I knew I was dreaming when my surroundings became clear.
I longed for that clarity to disintegrate.
I was in a foreign world of mist and trees that loomed over me. The sun was blocked out by their branches, and the time was incapable of being guessed.
The grass below me was long-dead by the lack of sunlight, but in a way, was a darkish green color. When I moved my feet, they let out a dry crispy sound as my shoes crushed them.
I was dressed in my pajama's. Exactly the ones I wore when I went to bed.
Then, a dark figure moved through the fog to me.
I took a step back. Another. Another.
The figure was humanoid, but far from human. It had a dark black veil that reached from his head down to...where his legs should have been. On his chest was a diamond like shape. Just above it, exposed bones showed clearly.
In his fleshless hands, he held a weapon of terror. Connected to the tip of the long wooden was a turned blade. A scythe.
I felt him watching me, but where his head should have been, was darkness. Like a hole. A void.
I noticed a black fog justify against the grayer fog around it. It rose from below his robe, and followed him with each movement.
When he spoke, it was the most horrifying sound I have ever heard. It had the darkest timbre a voice could have, and supporting each sound was the pain, suffering, distress and agony of every person in a thousand centuries.
"My name is Grim Reaper."
Inside me, emotions surfaced. His presence was the most brutal punishment she had ever been bestowed on. My mind was stormed with thoughts of tragic events and disturbing scenarios unfolding.
I wanted to ask what he wanted, but I knew it he was aware of my question.
"My intentions are something you will never understand. Only experience."
He took half a step forward, perhaps just to frighten me. It worked. I spun on my heels and darted into the fog. I ran into the heart of the fog, where it the most strongest. I cried for help. I screamed and shouted and chocked on my own words.
I heard the Grim Reaper approaching, and my heart stopped.
I woke up to the sound of screaming. It was my own.
Molly threw the door open, fully dressed in casual wear, and rushed to my bed.
"What's wrong? Did you hurt yourself?" she said/shouted.
I didn't reply. Couldn't. My lips were numb and my knuckles sweaty. My limbs shook violently, and I struggled to get back my default breathing routine.
Holly put her hand to my forehead.
"Be right back." she said, and ran back out the room.
The child within me, the one that always got scared when she had a nightmare, wished she wasn't alone. The image of the monster was still clear.
Very clear indeed.
Molly came in with a glass filled with water.
"Drink up, though do so slowly."
The water was an elixir from the most talented and experienced herbalist on the planet. It streamed down my throat most welcomed, and calmed my nerves as I never thought a liquid was capable of.
I turned to put it on my nightstand, and nearly dropped it in mid air.
"Yes," Molly said, stopping me from hasting out of the bed. "Though you're not going to school today."
My head tilted to the side in confusion.
"I'm not? Why?"
Her eyes betrayed a gloom. Not sadness, just gloom.
"Two teenagers were found dead in their different homes last evening. They think there's a serial killer. Your mom said there's too much of a risk staying here, so we're leaving."
Chapter 6 Edit
"Mom!" I said, trying to start an argument and come to a result.
My mom just continued packing her bags.
"Mom, come on! Please be rational!"
She looked at me out of the corner of her eye as she pulled out a shirt from the wardrobe.
"No, you're not. You're being the opposite."
She dropped the shirt into the bag and turned to me.
"I'm your mother, and you're my responsibility. If something happens to you, it would be my fault and it would break my heart."
"Exams start next week!"
"They're likely going to call it off." my mom said.
My head titled. "They can do that?"
"They will, if this continues. Three kids a week is a tragedy and a warning."
Parker Langerak and Lawrence Lum had both died in their sleep like Bebe. The similarities were awfully plentiful.
"And besides," my mom continued. "Other families are doing the same as us. We're not the only ones going."
That wasn't comforting. The town was in fear of a killer, and I doubted he wouldn't follow his intended victims.
My mom said we would depart that night, so I had a few hours to myself. She had to leave to pick up some things from work, and gave me a dire warning.
"Molly's out, too. Sandi's in her crib sleeping and I want you to take care of her. I'm locking the front door on my way out, and don't open it for anybody."
She asked if I remembered where the newly installed alarm was, and I pointed to the button in the dinning room.
"That one, and the one in the hall."
She left, promising to return in less then an hour.
I was still in pajamas, so I went to get dressed into more casual attire. When I was done, I went to the couch to take a small power nap, but my thoughts obstructed me from doing so.
The nightmare was still clear. Vivid, even.
"Hello!?" someone at the door shouted. I knew who it was nearly instantly.
"Hey Ethan." I went to the door, and gasped when I opened them.
"Is there an sleeplessness epidemic or something?" My tone was less the joking.
"I think so."
Behind him, his sister, Lisa stood, yawning loudly.
Ethan and Lisa looked almost like Bebe and Parker did before their deaths; plagued by a nearly uniform exhaustion.
I doubted I looked much better.
We went to the living room. Ethan and Lisa sat next to each over, while I stood against the wall.
Ethan took a while to ask an obviously urgent question. "What did you dream about last night?"
It was an interesting question. One I wouldn't have used to start a conversation.
"You're going to think it's stupid."
"So you did dream about the Grim Reaper?" Lisa asked.
I was flabbergasted for a moment.
Ethan took a deep breath. "So did we."
I was silent. I didn't get what he was saying. It entered my ears and brain, but it failed to register.
"I..." Ethan started. "Woke up screaming. I ran to check if everybody was okay, then...Lisa woke up."
"Screaming." Lisa added.
"I asked her what was wrong, and she told me the dream she had...River...this is weird."
"I...I don't know..."
"Are we going to die?" Lisa asked blandly. No emotion, no fear.
"Don't talk like that." I said. I said it to calm myself.
"I...I called Holly Alto." Ethan went on. "My mom told me about the deaths. I called to see if she was okay, because my dad said he was worried she would, as a rich kid, be next in these string of deaths. She had the same dream. A dream of a man in a cloak holding a scythe. I think every teen in town had it."
My, oh my, Dr. Simmons! It's been ages since I've last contacted you. It's your friend and ex-medical school classmate, Royce here.
I would like to congratulate you on your recent success firstly. My, you are truly re-imagining the working of Sims' brains and circulatory systems! You are quite heard of, more so in smaller towns. I'm currently in Riverview, working on autopsies, etc, etc, in means of earning funds. Gosh, the recession has truly caught us all, has it not?
Now, my main reason for getting in touch with you. Recently, a body of a young girl identified as River McIrish was found in her bed. There was no obvious signs of death; no blunt trauma, suffocation, anything.
I did see obvious signs of sleep deprivation, and upon further inspection, could see no major cardiac arrest signs or anything of the sort. It's as though she died for no reason other than lack of sleep, but instead of being cured, sleep killed her.
Please, I ask of your assistance to help investigate the cause of death, as the board are not pleased with the results I gave them. This would have not have worried me so much if I didn't hear that the girl came from Sunset Valley, where similar deaths have been reported.
A kind of plague, Simmons, is the only possibility. 'Deathly Dreams', as I dubbed it. I ask of your assistance, along with a psychologist who specializes in insomnia and dreaming, in hunting down the cause of this.
I hope you will think this over, and realize that lives are at stake here.
Hope to hear from you soon,
- Jebidiah Wilson'
Chpater 8 Edit
It was two weeks after I first heard River was dead.
At first, I didn't want to believe it. We knew something was wrong, and yet we didn't act.
I liked her. She was really, really pretty.
Would things have been different if we did something? Maybe.
The second I heard another teenager had been found dead, I cracked. I had another dream of 'Grimmy Reaper', as some of the other kids had dubbed him. Turns out, everyone had the same dream.
None of the parents believed us. So the teens started to desperately try to escape town. Some hid in the days, others just went on like nothing was wrong.
The town was horribly different. Nobody went to the park, school was canceled, a curfew was enforced by the authorities, and nobody dared leave home without a phone.
I also tried to convince my parents along with Lisa. Again they didn't believe us. It was ridiculous.
Then we heard, from Holly, about a group coming to investigate what was happening in the town. Holly told us that her dad was the one funding the project.
Why? She didn't know. Likely to gain voters in his campaign to become mayor of Sunset Valley. Or to make sure there are still people living in Sunset Valley by the time the election starts.
"According to the stuff I found in his office," Holly said over the phone, "He's to fund Jebidiah Wilson from Riverview, and Marc Brandt from some place called Twinbrook to, and I quote, 'search for the cause of the recent deaths'. Geez, §50 000."
"Thanks for your help, Holly."
"No prob--" I could hear her yawn.
"Haven't been sleeping either, huh?"
"No, I've cut it back to two nights a week."
I knew that even two nights a week was a massive risk to take.
"Okay, well, hope everything gets better. Have a nice afternoon."
I made a mental note to search the town the next day to see if I find anyone named 'Wilson' or 'Brandt'.
As I walked to my room, I could hear my sister snoring from behind her closed bedroom door. Each loud inhale made me wince with guilt.
Chapter 9 Edit
My eyes shot open to the sound of the menacing voice from my dreams. I was in central park...no, I wasn't really in central park...was I?
"It's time for us to have some fun, Ethan."
I jumped from the pavement. Almost instantly I fell back down.
The voice laughed at my misfortune.
I tried to look for the hidden evil. The swings rocked slightly forward as the wind blew, and the pond rippled.
"Ah!" I crawled back as a shadowy figure darted past. It disappeared moments later into utter nothingness.
"Show yourself!" I screamed, fearing for my life. Next to me a plank of some sort lay. I grabbed it.
"Come now, Ethan, do you honestly think that that's going to help you?"
The voice was coming from all around me now. It was impossible to guess its source.
"For the last time, stay--" I started, before the plank transformed in a flash from defender to attacker. It thinned, deflated, and became a snake like monster the size of my arm.
"Please, no!" I tried to run again, the snake-thing slithering behind me. The wind grew powerful. A sudden gust send me falling head-over-heels.
Then the ground was gone.
And I spiraled to my doom.
Chapter 10 Edit
"Ethan, Ethan!" Lisa was shaking me violently, calling out my name with growing hysteria.
"Wait...wait I'm awake..." I said, almost saying "I'm alive".
"Ethan, I found him."
"Wilson. The man named Wilson."
I was sitting now, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Holly Alto standing in the doorway. I made a quick attempt at a wave before asking, "How'd you know that name was important?"
"You were..." Lisa started, before taking a breath. "You were talking in your sleep. You said something about a man named 'Wilson'. Holly came over and I hoped she'd know something. She told me the whole story and...and then we went out to find him."
"We came back by the time you started screaming." Holly said and looked down at her shoes. She was swaying a bit, then quickly regained her composure.
"Apparently he and Marc Brandt have set up some whole investigation into all these deaths."
"Where can we find them?" I asked.
"The abandoned warehouse." Holly answered.
"Let's go, then."