paths less treaded
How do you find someone from a dream?
The clues were everywhere. Still took him several nights, several dreams to see them.
The inside of the supermarket. The labelling of the aisles. The arrangement of the sections. The green t-shirts of the employees. The caps, stuffed mostly in pant pockets, but some on heads. It was as good a place to start as any.
There were more supermarkets in the country than he had realized. And every one of them had their own uniforms. A sixth of them were green t-shirts. Only two with that shade of green. And one with the green cap too.
He found the supermarket.
Adyans mart. It was a chain of moderate size, primarily operating in the west. 96 stores across 13 cities.
He needed more clues.
*
The nightmare wasn't even the worst part. At least the nightmare only haunted her when she was home and asleep.
The eyes were worse. Eyes she could feel upon her, but couldn't see or find. It was horrible. She felt like she was ten again, in their new home. And the disgusting eyes of that man were slowly feasting upon her.
And coupled with the nightmare, she was starting to feel like he had come back from the dead.
"No," she told herself.
She couldn't lose her head. She couldn't fall, back to that little girl.
And so, she braved on. Trying her hardest to ignore the invisible eyes. And the nightmare. And she was starting to succeed. It was starting to feel like a phase, like her period.
*
He couldn't come up with another way. He pulled up photos of each of the 96 stores available on the internet, studying each one, comparing it with the sketches. He was prepared for the long search it was going to be.
He was through 56 stores before he found the one. Everything about the store was right. And when he put up the sketches next to the photos on the screen, details missing in the sketches, details hazy, were filled in. The sketches were turning more complete.
And that clarity was affecting Rika too. He was seeing more of her. The dark blue jeans. The dark grey sneakers. The strands of hair she had to keep pushing behind her ear. The long breath every couple of minutes, like she was calming herself down. The deliberate attempt to keep her eyes from straying. The clenching of her fists to keep the hands from trembling. And the smile that was a little wider and a little deeper to keep the dark of her eyes from growing.
She was scared.
And he felt a sense of urgency.
The store was on the 14th street in Barrow city. Having found it, he was ready to head over.
*
First, it was a shadow in the corner of her eye. Like someone had walked past her, neither far nor near. And she had caught him in her peripheral vision.
Just a shopper, she told herself.
A few hours later, it happened again. Only this time, there was no shopper around.
She couldn't lose her mind. She couldn't fall for such a simple trick, especially of her own mind.
The nightmare was longer that night. Not in time sped up like nightmares usually were, but a lot like real time. She was the ten year old her. Terrified. Hurt. Convinced no one would be coming to help. And she felt all of that so much closer, so much clearer, not far from as if it was real and now. The footsteps, starting faint and far and growing louder and nearer very slow. Her heart jumping with every step, crashing against the ribs. And she felt the pain, physically. When the door swung open, it was as if she was hearing it not just in the dream but with her ears. When the feet stopped at the bed, she felt his presence, standing over her, in her room. And when he sat on his knees and bent so his head was under the bed and leaned in and grabbed her feet, she felt his hands around her leg. And she woke up.
She could feel the cold touch around her ankle. She could feel the breath in the room that didn't belong. She could feel that horrible man in the room. And it wasn't just the dream.
She couldn't keep from wondering if he had really returned.
The shadows in the corner of her eye were gone. Only to be replaced by shadows standing still behind racks, so she could see them just enough. So she could see him. So she could feel him watching her.
*
The photos had helped. More than he realized.
The next time, he saw much more of the supermarket. He could distinguish the aisles and the racks with almost complete clarity. He could see the people distinctly, even if their features were still blurry. He saw Rika like he was standing right in front of her. And he also finally saw the shadow.
*
Shade.
When he looked at the shadow hidden behind the rack in the book, that was the word the popped up in his head. And so, that was the name he gave it.
Shade. It was Shade's eyes through which he had seen Rika first. That explained the sketch.
The one side, with the skeletal racks, was him.
The other side, with Rika filled with so much detail, was Shade.
And knowing this also revealed more. The coldness with which he stared at Rika, was Shade's feeling. His inability to look away, was Shade's attachment. The rush of excitement and anticipation was Shade's. The absolute disregard for everyone else, was Shade. That was why everyone else was blurry.
The discomfort, was his. The feeling of needing to help, was his.
How he felt drawn to her, he wasn't sure whether his or Shade's. And he wasn't sure it mattered.
He filled in the details, of Shade. Just the eyes really. Cold, dark eyes that were holes opening up to deep darkness, that weren't visible but could be felt. There was nothing in the sketch, except for a few scratches upon other scratches. Shade's eyes were just like him, shadows.
*
The more he looked, the less he could look away. As if he was bewitched.
Shade began a few aisles away. But grew closer every time. Was no more than a couple of aisles away when Rika noticed. And was separated by a single rack, when Shade stopped.
He could almost see the grin. A slit that curved upward and revealed sharp fangs. Exactly like a monster that Shade was.
He could feel the almost uncontainable excitement bubbling inside Shade.
And when he turned around, he saw a Rika that was bent over, hands over her knees to support her, gasping, sweating, crying. Like she had reached the end of the line.
*
She saw him. Behind the rack a few feet away. Not hiding anymore. And so close that she could almost distinguish the features. She could never forget those eyes, and that grin which mom called toothy. He really had returned.
She buckled under the great weight pressing down on her. She felt like she was being shrunk, into that little girl ten years old. She felt the joy filling her chest, as they moved into the new home which was so much bigger and where she had her own room. Just days before the start of the horror.
She looked up, and saw him grinning at her. Saw the love in his eyes. The fondness and the affection in his gaze. Saw his lip slither out and licking his lips. Saw the hunger laid bare.
And the tears spilled out, just as her stomach felt squeezed. The vomit rose up her throat. She rushed out the back, to the employees rest area, to the bathroom. Locked herself in a cubicle. And vomited out everything.
And then, as she washed her face, she saw the little girl look back through the mirror. And she collapsed, in tears. Curled into herself. Hands pressed over her mouth. Trembling and whimpering.
*
He checked the ticket again on his phone. Mike. 4 D. 4:15 flight to Barrow city. He would be landing at 6:15. If he rushed, he could be at the supermarket by 8:30, according to the map. Well before the store closed.
"Is this right?" he wondered.
And he got no answer. He wasn't questioning the urgency of the situation. Just whether his physical presence would amount to anything. Usually, he would do nothing in such circumstances. Sit still, in the comfort of home, until the answer came by itself. Today, was different. There was something propelling him toward Barrow city, toward Rika. A voice from deep within was telling him he had to go. That it was important. And the voice felt dear, even if he couldn't recognize it.
He sighed in defeat. Gave up. Looked at the ticket again.
It was 1:15 now. He could start after a whole hour and still be in time. But there was nothing to do. And he was hungry. And not in the mood for cooking. He grabbed the lightly packed bag, and started off for the airport. He would check-in. Grab something to eat. And nap on the flight.
So he'd be ready.