The Phantom City

Chapter 4

I knelt in darkness.

It stretched on as far as I could see. A dull buzzing noise filled my ears, and I lifted my head, looking left and right. "What... what was that?" I whispered, pressing my arms to my chest. My heart slammed like a wounded bird against my ribs. I glanced down and realized that I could see my hands clearly, as though there was a spotlight focused just on my body.

And, the bonds were gone. As was the garage, and the gawking crew, and the car where Asha still hid. I forced myself to stand, wobbling a bit at first. The darkness seemed to ripple around my movements, like I was underwater.

Strange, for a hallucination. That had to be what this was -- my brain must have ditched me here, when it couldn't handle the serum.

I took a few experimental steps, watching the little wrinkles in the darkness that appeared. I held my hand up to my face and flexed it, staring at the detailed lines on my palm. The skin blurred slightly when I concentrated too hard.

A soft laugh escaped me, despite myself. Hopefully Race was satisfied with my unconscious body. I could only pray Asha hadn't seen any of it and freaked out again. He always worried too much. The thought seemed absurdly funny to me, until I realized that Race would probably chuck my body out of the garage when he noticed I'd just passed out. I paused. I could only imagine the headlines: Young Journalist Killed in Shady Garage, or, more likely with Race's connections, Young Journalist Hurls Himself Off Building. College Debt to Blame?

The darkness slipped and slid over me, eel-like, responding to the sound I'd made, only settling when I stayed still.

"Right." I murmured, the words sending out ripples in front of me. "So, hallucination. How long do these things last, anyways?" I started walking again. It was totally possible that it could be a while. Especially if I'd gone into a coma or something. Which, really, not the end of the world, since the tabloids always talked about miracle coma awakenings. Sure, this place creeped me out, but it was definitely better than feeling whatever the juice was supposed to do to me.

Unless this was what it was supposed to do to me. I paused and glanced behind me -- there was no way to tell I'd moved at all. My theory about it being a truth serum didn't seem quite right, but what he'd said about the mind at the end...

I shook my head, trying to untangle my thoughts. The darkness made it hard to think, hard to breathe. I needed to move. I walked faster, then fell into a jog, and eventually a full on sprint. The darkness hissed and leapt around me, coiled around my ankles, throbbed to the rhythm of my racing pulse. When I stumbled to a stop, it took a while for the shadows to calm down. They whipped past my hair, and a snip of coldness stung my face, almost like they were scolding me for agitating them.

"Owen."

I swung around. The darkness vibrated out in the directions that I looked, but there was still nothing. I sighed. Great -- now I was hearing things, too. Maybe the serum made me lose it. Maybe I was walking around and raving like a madman in front of Race, while his crew mocked me. I sent a particular hand gesture out into the dead air, just in case he could see it. The shadows smacked at the finger, sending a bolt of ice down it. "Hey, what do you care, anyway?" I grumbled into the nothingness, shaking out the sensation. It jostled me back, almost throwing me off balance. "Okay, okay, no profanity in Dreamland. Got it."

It withdrew, apparently appeased. I scoffed and crossed my arms. "So you understand me, huh?"

The darkness stilled entirely, stiffening.

"No, don't be that way. I know you can hear me." I tapped at the thin air, and was surprised to find the faint sensation of ice beneath my fingertip. "Can you tell me where I am? And how I can get out?"