Chapter Two: The Trip

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    Chris awoke early the next morning curled up in a shivering, naked ball on top of his bed. He groggily grabbed hold of the thick comforter under him and wrapped himself up with it. His mind was thick with lingering sleep, but the cold attacking his bare body prevented him from dosing back off. Once the comforter reduced his shivering to a manageable condition, he sat up on the edge of the bed, careful to keep the comforter wrapped warmly around him. A quick glance at the digital alarm clock near his bed revealed that work was about an hour away.

    He got up from the bed and headed into the living room wrapped in the warmth of the comforter with the intention of raising the thermostat to summon the heat inside his apartment, but the sight of his shredded lounging clothes on the floor near the couch stopped him dead in his barefooted tracks. He studied the torn remains of his favorite evening attire with a puzzled look, then the bewildering sight triggered flashes of memory from last night's bizarre events.

    Images of lumbering around his apartment behind the eyes of some massive creature popped into Chris' waking mind. Then he remembered ducking down to stare into the bathroom mirror only to see the huge black head of something wolf-like with purple eyes staring back at him. After that he remembered fleeing to his bedroom, bumping his head at the top of the doorway as he went, then collapsing down on his bed in the hope that he was simply hallucinating. He turned back to check the doorway of his bedroom where sure enough, the wood casing at the top was busted. He slithered an arm out of the comforter to rub his head and check for a bump, but there was none.

    He turned back to inspect the rest of his apartment with an uncertain, sweeping gaze. All was in order, but he had the nagging feeling of forgetting something, so he shuffled over to the couch and sat down in deep thought. Pushing aside the insane images of being some sort of creature, he searched his thoughts for what was nudging his memory. Finally, after backtracking through the events of yesterday evening, to the moment when he'd sat on the couch to rest a little, he remembered with wide eyes the change in his dream.

    The girl had spoken. Seek shade in Ridgeville, she'd said. Ridgeville, shade? It had to be some kind of clue. Finally, after all those weeks of suffering the binding torment of the dream's dilemma, Chris had something to go on that might actually prove if the girl was real or not, that might actually lead him to her rescue. But where was Ridgeville?

    Chris roamed the ceiling with his eyes as he pondered Ridgeville's location. It sounded familiar, like somewhere he should know about, then it hit him. Ridgeville was a suburb of Bergstad. He knew that from studying the Bergstad area on a large shipping map that hung on the wall in the break room at the factory. He now had a location, and a clue to decipher. Seek shade, which he would figure out later. At the moment his mind raced to put a plan together for an impulsive trip to Ridgeville, but first things first, he needed to get dressed.

    By the time Chris laced up his sneakers, he'd decided on a course of action. He rummaged through his bedroom closet until he pulled out a large duffel bag, which he quickly stuffed with enough clothes for a weekend, then he shot to the bathroom where he crammed all of his toiletries in the outside pockets of the bag. Next he rushed back into his bedroom to get a wad of cash from the bottom drawer of his chest of drawers that he kept stored away for emergencies, then he flew out of the apartment and headed in a hurry to the bus station.

    At the bus station, after securing a round trip ticket to Ridgeville, Chris had to make two phone calls. He traded the lone terminal's attendant a couple of bills for some change to use at the payphone. The escape fund was too stingy for an automobile, so a cell phone was out of the question too. The first call was to Stan, his supervisor at the factory.

    "Hey Stan, it's Chris."

    "Oh, hey Chris."

    "Um, Stan, I'm really sorry to do this to you at the last minute, but I'm gonna have to take today off due to an emergency that's come up outta town."

    "I hope it's nothing serious."

    "No, it's nothing bad, but I have to tend to it."

    "Well, don't worry about it Chris, you've got plenty of sick days left and it's about time you took one."

    "Thanks Stan, I really appreciate it."

    "No problem Chris, I hope everything turns out okay for you."

    "Thanks. I'll see ya Monday."

    "Okay."

    Chris knew Stan would understand. They'd gotten to know each other fairly well in the six years Chris had been working at the factory. Chris had as much respect for Stan as an even- tempered, competent supervisor as Stan had for Chris' diligent work ethics, which rarely allowed him to take a day off. Chris fed the phone a few coins again, then dialed the number for his oldest and closest friend, Kyle Summers, who answered wearily with a sleep-laden voice. 

    "Hello?"

    "Kyle, it's me."

    "Chris, what's up bro?"

    "The dream Kyle, it changed last night."

    "What do you mean?"

    "I mean the girl gave me a message."

    "Really? What did she say?"

    "She told me to go to Ridgeville."

    "Ridgeville? Where is that?"

    "It's up near Bergstad, it's actually a suburb of Bergstad."

    "It was already weird enough that you've been havin' this dream every night, and now you're gettin' messages?"

    "Yeah, I know."

    "So what now?"

    "Well, now I'm at the bus station waiting to board a bus that'll take me to Ridgeville for the weekend."

    "Wow, you're actin' kinda fast aren't you?"

    "Yeah, but I've got a funny feeling that there's something to all this, and now I've got something to go on."

    "If ya want, I could call in sick today and go with ya."

    "Thanks Kyle, but this is something I've gotta do by myself."

    "I understand, you're hopin' this might somehow be linked to your past."

    "Yeah, you got it."

    "For your sake I hope so bro, just be careful."

    "Thanks bro, I will. I'll call you when I get back in town."

    "Okay."

    "Bye Kyle."

    "Bye Chris."

    Chris hung up the phone, wondering if he should have been brave enough to tell Kyle about his unbelievable transformation, but a grumble from his empty stomach reminded him that he'd missed supper last night and distracted him. He searched the walls of the station until he found the time on a large, round ticking clock. There was enough time left before his departure for him to raid the vending machines for some road trip goodies, so he grabbed the duffel bag at his feet, hoisted it's strap over his shoulder, and made a b-line for the machines.

    After filling one of the bag's pockets full of snacks from the machines, and scarfing down a candybar, Chris went to the bus waiting to carry him off to the unknown and took a seat in the back next to a window. There were only a handful of passengers, so he was able to keep his bag in the seat beside him while enjoying the solitude he needed to organize his thoughts. He settled down into his seat and adjusted his head against the headrest so that he would have a comfortable view of the passing scenery.

    Within minutes the big bus rolled out of the station and away from Torrell. Chris was staring out of the window, but he was more concerned with the clue from his dream than the window's offering. Seek shade in Ridgeville. What an open clue since shade could be found anywhere and everywhere on a normal sunny day; but the word itself suddenly carried a hidden familiarity to it in Chris' mind. It rang out like the distant echo of a faded voice that he  couldn't put a face to. It was a common word, but now for some reason yet unknown, it carried a significance that he was eager to discover.

    Chris managed the first couple of hours of the trip with thoughts about what secrets Ridgeville might hold for him as he munched on one of the snacks stored away in his bag and absorbed the scenery rolling by; but soon the constant lullaby sung by the diesel engine behind him, with the occasional gentle rocking caused by rough patches in the road, weakened his struggle to stay awake and lured him into a heavy sleep.

     

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