The Roads That We Explore - 1. A Dream is just a Dream

Dodging around his fellow students, Alexander complained about idiots who thought that their shit didn’t stink just because their parents had money in his head. He was being forced to deal with three of said idiots on a new class project that would go over most of the semester. He wasn’t looking forward to that, but the fourth person he was working with didn’t make it so bad.

Sliding around a group of cheerleaders who were discussing the practices that they would need for Regionals, he sighed as he got to his locker, picking up his lock. He spun the dial with well practiced moment, giving it a tug and unlocking it. He pulled it from the hole and lifted the door jamb as he started to dig around in his bag. He found himself distracted as he hunted down his maths book and English text, wanting to get to the library before it closed for the day so he could do some minor prepping for the project.

Looking, Alexander noticed that the hall had for the most part emptied out beyond three of the four that he was going to be working with. Most of his fellow students were either heading for practice, or just wanting to get out for the day. The cheerleaders were heading around the corner to the smaller gym while the last of the basketball players disappeared down the hall to the bigger gym.

He licked at his lips, deciding to just drop off his books, and turned to his opened locker finally.

His body became still when his eyes landed on what waited for him within the lockers. The thump of his textbooks dropping to the ground from his hands was a distant echo as he stared. His mouth fell open, eyes wide and staring, uncomprehending.

Sitting on his locker shelf, next to the box that held his extra pens, pencils and erasers, and the empty lunch box, sat a head. For a split second, Alexander thought, hoped, that it was fake. But the way the eyes stared back in a glazed, empty way, and the blood that puddled around the ragged neck was far from fake.

The blood was too thick to be fake and held a faint coppery smell.

A scream of terror sounded from behind him, jerking him out of his horrified staring. He fell back onto his ass he jerked, wincing. He twisted and looked, finding Maria with her blond head turned and pressed into a horrified looking Richard’s chest. Her girlfriend, Alendra, was bent over a trash can, puking into it, her hair scarf falling from the tight twist that had kept it on her head. Markus was pressed against the wall, having joined his friends while Alexander wasn’t looking. He slid down, his hands pressing against his mouth as he gagged.

“Cops...We need ta call the cops,” Richard finally got out. “The fucking hell?” he gagged.

Alexander shook his head, black hair whipping around his face. “Not a clue. Is that...that’s fucking Kyle.”

“Kyle?” Alendra asked as she wiped her mouth, carefully not looking to the locker just in case. “He’s that quarterback, right? But I just saw him at lunch and he’s a part of our group, right?”

“I think…” Markus said, stuttering to a stop as he tore his eyes away. “I don’t think that it was just too long ago. No more than minutes before the last bell I would think.” He looked down at the floor, forcing himself to think critically. “And whoever did this probably used something to carry...his head so that he wouldn’t leave a trail.” He swallowed heavily. “Probably a backpack and some plastic bags within so that it didn’t look odd.”

“You don’t think it could be…” Alendra trailed off. She grimaced and rubbed at her stomach. Richard finally shook his head, fumbling for his phone in his back pocket.

“I don’t know. But I’m really hoping not,” Richard said as he turned himself and Maria away, quickly dialing the police. Alexander once more turned to the locker and stared at Kyle’s face. A droplet of blood fell off of the edge of the shelf, stretching out slow as molasses before it broke off and joined the puddle that was at the bottom of the locker with a ‘plip’ that echoed in his head...

Alexander gasped and shot up in his sleeping bag, his eyes jerking around the tent. He twisted around and checked on his friends. Alendra was cuddled down with Maria in their two-person sleeping bag and on their cot near the front of the large tent. Markus had buried himself in his own sleeping bag while Richard was near him and sprawled out on his stomach, half out of his bag, half in and leg falling to the ground. And finally, his eyes landed on Kyle, who was alive and breathing, head still attached.

He breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Damn but that was a fucked up dream,” he groaned softly before flopping back onto his low cot, rubbing at his face. “What the fuck was that all about? I know for a fact that it was Casey who got killed. Kyle was sick that week and I wasn’t the one who found her gutted like a damn fish,” he muttered. He shook his head. He looked out of the small screened window in the side of the tent and saw that the sun was starting to brighten. He sighed, knowing that their alarms would be going off soon. “Well no reason to stay in bed. Might as well get up.”

He pushed his sleeping bag zipper down, and shoved it off of him, standing up. He slipped his shoes on before stretching with a groan and moving to step outside. He turned to the left, frowning as he stared at the gates that they had driven over the night before, eyebrows furrowing. “The fucking hell!” he yelped.

The gates that they had driven over the night before, the hinges having rusted away, were now brand new and closed, trapping them within the estate lands that they had come to check out for their college history project. Alendra shuffled to stand next to him, her sleepy look disappearing as her mouth fell open.

“What the flying fuck?”

Alexander idly wondered if what he was seeing was a part of the reason why he had dreamed what he had before he shuddered as a cold chill ran down his back.