The Somnibus: Book I - Finding the Mark (A Paranormal Thriller) Read Free Page A

my hand
burning and bright lights zooming toward me. Wind blew past me as the lights
streamed by. The honking of cars finally broke the haze of my mind. I found
myself standing in the middle of the interstate with cars rushing by at a
violent speed. Eyes darting back and forth, I looked for a safe way to run. My
mind ordered my body to get the hell off the road, but it refused. I had no
control of my actions, my bare feet seemingly cemented to the asphalt.
    My feet straddled the reflective white line in the
center of the road. The sound of a big rig horn raised my chin, a giant truck
bearing down on my left side. Staring at the grill of the fast-approaching
truck, I thought if I just stayed on the centerline, maybe he would miss me as
the other cars had.
    As that thought settled in my mind, my left foot
picked itself up and took a giant step to the left, my right foot followed. The
truck’s wheels locked, its ass end swinging wide, sure to swipe me from the road.
The driver had no choice but to hold his course because cars were on both
sides. He could kill many innocent people, or just the asshole standing in the
middle of the road.
    I closed my eyes and waited for the impact. The
blast of the horn grew louder while the ground shook as the tires struggled to
find traction. Suddenly, my eyes flew open and my feet broke free. Relieved to
have control again, I leaped to the right as the deafening horn and 18
screaming tires faded into the distance behind me. More cars headed toward me,
with horns in full concert, but I maneuvered my way to the safety of the
shoulder. The driver saved his rig and somehow avoided everyone else on the
road.
    I stood well clear of the road while my heart
settled from my throat. My head spun, trying to put together the scattered
pieces of the last few minutes. My stomach twisted and spilled the Bud Light
and cheese from earlier onto my bare feet. I stood in the unkempt grass wearing
only a grey pair of boxer briefs and a fresh coat of wretch on my feet.
    As I smeared the vomit from my chin, my mind
scrambled to remember how I’d ended up on the highway. The death of my parents
and packing up the house must have left me exhausted, the combination of those
things causing me to sleepwalk.
    The lights from town sparkled in the distance, and
a jet scraping overhead told me I was near the airport. The reflective green
sign of an exit lurked down the road, maybe a mile away.
    Following the exit ramp, I walked toward a
convenience store with a cab parked out front. The driver stood outside his cab
smoking a cigarette and I contemplated whether I should approach him or not. I had no choice , I had to get home .
    “Can I get a ride home? It’s been sort of a tough
night.”
    The driver surveyed me while taking the last drag
of his cigarette. He emptied his lungs before he replied.
    “That’s obvious,” he snickered. “Where you
headed?”
    “5612 Tumbler Drive.”
    “Hop in.” He flicked his cigarette to the ground.
“But get in the back.”
    I grinned and hopped in the back of the cab.
    The vehicle headlights splashed onto the porch
when we pulled into my driveway, the front door hanging open. The driver waited
while I went into the house, found my wallet on the kitchen counter, and went
back to pay him. On the way back outside, I noticed my mother’s stone lying on
the floor next to the recliner in the living room. Picking up the stone, I went
outside to pay the driver. I handed him a twenty for the fare, and an extra ten
for not asking too many questions.
    I headed straight to the shower. As the grime and
puke swirled down the drain, the confusion continued to spin in my mind as to
how I’d ended up on my little midnight excursion. Again, I landed on the only
logical conclusion: my drained mental state contributed to my sleepwalking, and
that’s how I’d made my way onto Interstate 95. I stepped out of the shower and
went to bed. I had to catch a couple of hours sleep. It was 4 a.m., and I