Aaron jerked awake in bed, tangled in his sheets.

The room was awash with bright, white light. It took his sleep-addled mind a second to realize the light came from the headlights of a car pulling into the alley behind the building. His heart was beating fast and his breaths were quick, but he found he wasn’t sweating despite how uncomfortably warm he felt.

That’s mildly unsettling in the context of that crazy dream, he thought. Even more unsettling how clearly I can recall what happened in the dream.

Even if Aaron had wanted to keep an open mind about the possibility of anything Barrett had said being real, he just couldn’t think of a sane way to do so. In a perfect world, he’d put some of Barrett’s claims to the test, but the real world was far from perfect and Aaron didn’t fancy the idea of tearing ligaments or shooting himself literally in the foot trying to prove whether he had superpowers.

Could I try a super jump? he wondered. Those aren’t always tied to super strength, though. In comics, anyway.

It would be awesome to find out he had superpowers, but wasn’t it a little childish to even entertain the thought? Plus, Barrett had said something about people being after him and that didn’t sound very awesome at all.

Aaron wasn’t thinking clearly. He was fully awake yet the dream still lingered in his thoughts. He was facing one of those rare moments where being at home wasn’t calming but left him feeling cooped up. He needed to go for a walk around the neighborhood or something, get some fresh air to clear his head.

Who the hell dreams their wise old wizard mentor is some scruffy, hobo-looking dude in a rented Chevy? Aaron wondered ruefully. Gandalf never took a cheap shot at the hobbits with a twelve-gauge, either.

Even worse than getting sucker punched — sucker shot? — by the old man was Aaron’s reaction. He hadn’t been angry enough to lash out since high school. He’d barely even raised his voice with people for more than a decade. Rage, he’d realized in his youth, was a winning ticket in the psycho lottery and came with short odds on a trip to prison.

Aaron stepped into the bathroom and splashed some cold water on his face, trying to rinse away the emotional residue still lingering from the dream. When he pulled the hand towel away from his face, his heart practically leapt into his throat — someone was standing behind him, reflected in the medicine cabinet mirror.

They had a blank mask covering most of their face and held a strange dagger with a living serpent for a blade. The serpent’s fangs were bared and ready to plunge into Aaron unprotected back.

Aaron spun and almost stumbled into the bathtub. He managed to stay on his feet but nearly punched a hole in the wall before he realized the masked figure had just been a figment of his imagination. It had seemed so real…

Probably some combination of that stupid dream and something I watched, he told himself.

He definitely needed to take a walk to clear his head.

Aaron grabbed his phone, put in some earbuds, and locked his front door, heading out into the cooler night air. It was only a quarter after one and, since it was Saturday night, there would be people out and about in the neighborhood. Downtown and Midtown were the major hubs of nightlife in Sacramento, with plenty of bars (and bars with enough space to masquerade as tiny nightclubs).

He walked at a decent pace to bleed away his agitation, but not so fast he’d draw any attention. Aaron had lived in the neighborhood for several years and been visiting to hit the bars since he was in college, so he knew where all the super busy spots were and made sure to keep at least a half a block’s distance from any of them. Running into someone he knew when he was feeling so on edge was the last thing he needed. Even so, he passed a number of small groups out enjoying a weekend’s revelry.

After a couple blocks, he had the strongest intuition someone was following him. He took a turn at the next corner so he could sneak a glance over his shoulder. Sure enough, someone was heading his way.

Probably just a coincidence, he told himself, and started taking random turns every couple blocks.

His nervous energy wasn’t burning off; it was actually getting worse. The music was helping him keep a good pace, but it was like trying to bail water out of a boat with a fork. It was only made worse as he realized the person behind him was definitely taking every turn he did and gaining ground to boot.

Aaron turned off his music and started looking for places that would either let him shake them off or get the drop on them. Two blocks later, he spotted a dumpster sticking out past the mouth of an alley between two apartment buildings. He increased his pace to a light jog and turned into the alley.

As soon as he was clear of the corner of the building, Aaron ducked into the space between the first dumpster and another beside it. He didn’t fully crouch because that would leave him vulnerable, but he hunkered down so his head wouldn’t be visible over the large metal bin.

The sound of footsteps approached, moving at a brisk pace. The footsteps had a kind of shuffling quality, like the person following him was dragging their feet a little, or maybe that they had a limp.

Swih-thump.

Aaron heard that noise purely in his mind, but his breath caught and he tried to suppress a shiver running down his spine. The sound of footsteps wasn’t really like that, at all, but the association set Aaron completely on edge. He adjusted his stance slightly so he was just able to see over the top of the dumpster. Hopefully the shadows in the alley would make it very hard to spot the top of his head.

A few seconds later, a hooded person jogged into view. They stopped right next to the dumpster. The hooded man — Aaron guessed it was a guy from their build and the sound of their breathing — rested an arm on the edge of the bin and took a few breaths, looking around. The same shadows that Aaron hoped were hiding him from notice filled the stranger’s hoodie and kept him from seeing their face.

“Dang,” the stranger breathed, turning to look back around the street.

This is my chance, Aaron thought. Move now or risk them spotting me.

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Aaron, mind made up, moved fast. Two quick steps brought him around the dumpster and put him right on top of the stranger. He yanked their arm behind their back and lifted slightly to get them balanced on their toes, then pushed them into the wall on the other side of the alley. It wasn’t the best arm lock, but he had control with his other hand and the wall to limit their movement even more.

The stranger’s response was entirely not what Aaron was expecting.

“Haha, oopshie,” the stranger said. “Hey, Aarom, is that you? I think I fell over.”

The man’s words were heavily slurring. It was also a voice Aaron recognized. It belonged to a guy named Jeff that Aaron frequently spent time with when he went out drinking. As mortifying as it was to realize he’d just attacked a bar buddy, Aaron was far more astounded to realize he was holding Jeff against the wall almost a foot off the ground.

How the hell did I do that? he asked himself, setting Jeff down as carefully as he could.

Jeff turned around, wobbling a bit in place. “You shaved me from busting my nose, Aarun,” he said. “Thanksh, bud.”

“Uh, no problem, Jeff,” Aaron said.

Despite regularly drinking himself insensate, Jeff was both well-known and well-liked in the neighborhood. He was the kind of outgoing person who was friendly to everybody and he’d been far more forgiving and kind to Aaron than most people were if he was around long enough to stick a foot in his mouth.

“Wassgoinon, man?” Jeff asked.

“Not much. You scared the shit out of me, though; I thought you were trying to jack me or something.”

Even Jeff’s laugh was slurred. “Nah, not me, dude.” He put a hand on Aaron’s shoulder and gestured energetically in several directions with the other. “I saw you walk by the… the, uh… y’know, the place? Back there? With the shuffleboard?”

“The Tavern?”

“Yesssssh, that’s the place, Arim!” He patted Aaron’s shoulder enthusiastically. “You know we keep it janky, but if someone tries to jack you, you gotta… you gotta hate them haters. But keep it janky, y’know?”

Jeff accompanied the last sentence with a wobbly little dance.

Aaron nodded along. “Right. We keep it janky.”

If I’d been out drinking with Jeff, that haphazard cluster of sentences would have probably struck me as the Deepest of Wisdom, he thought.

The conversation continued in that vein. Jeff rambled and veered from half a topic to the next and Aaron obligingly smiled along. Eventually, Aaron was able to lead his acquaintance back to the point.

“So why’d you follow after me, Jeff?” he asked, for the third time.

“I tooold you: I wanted to invite you to this after-hours speakeasy some people I know are holding at this new warehouse co-op art space. It’sh gonna be a goood time, Airn.”

In the five minutes they’d been talking, Jeff had most certainly not told Aaron any such thing. Under normal circumstances, Aaron would almost certainly have gone. Jeff knew literally everybody and it always felt really nice when he made the effort to include Aaron in his shenanigans.

Tonight, however, Aaron was still feeling distinctly on edge. His eyes had been darting to every flickering shadow or passerby within a block of them the entire time they’d been talking. Even after finding out the person following him had been a drunk friend, Aaron still had the most peculiar feeling he was being hounded through the streets.

Jeff has always been cool to me, Aaron mused, but I’m not in the right headspace to be drinking around strangers in a sketchy warehouse bar in the middle of the night.

What was also sticking in his mind — no matter how much he tried to avoid paying attention to it — was the memory of lifting and holding Jeff clear off the ground without even realizing that.

Aaron didn’t think he’d imagined that, but it was just plain impossible. He hadn’t been to a gym in more than a year and it only took a couple weeks for loss of strength and muscle atrophy to start setting in. And Jeff wasn’t exactly a small guy; he was slim, but had four or five inches height over Aaron.

After making his excuses, Aaron walked Jeff back to the bar near his apartment. He didn’t want to leave the man stumbling around alone and it was nice to have company, even if Jeff likely wouldn’t make the best backup if Aaron’s vague sense of danger proved to be prescient.

From there, Aaron kept his music turned off and covered the last few blocks at a fast jog, scanning every nook and cranny an ambush might be lying in wait along the way. As eager as he’d been to get out of the house when he woke up, now he wanted to be back in his own space, with its doors and locks. Thankfully, he didn’t cross paths with anyone else.

He took the steps up to the rear door of his building and then up to his apartment two at a time. When he got inside, he shut the door and locked it, just like he always did, and leaned his forehead against the door. The thick wood was almost cold now that the window-mounted air conditioner had been running for hours. Aaron relished the sensation.

I made it, he thought with a heavy sigh. I’m safe.

For a moment, Aaron’s thoughts turned to the little suitcase on the shelf in the bedroom closet. There was comfort to be found there; real comfort. He pushed the thoughts away. It was just a bit of anxiety, nothing to lose his head over.

When he turned around, he stumbled and slammed back into the door. A man was laying on the floor, propped against the wall behind the couch. His face and neck were covered in blood, his head lolling at a terrible angle, with a large knife buried in his stomach.

Aaron shut his eyes tight, his hands involuntarily clenching into fists.

It’s not real, he told himself. It’s not real. It’s not real.

When he opened his eyes again, the body was gone.

He released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and headed for the bedroom. As he was rounding the end of the couch, he saw a masked figure standing by the door out of the corner of his eye. They had a grisly dagger in their hand and lunged at him as soon as he registered their presence. Without thinking, Aaron bent and lifted one end of the couch with a single hand, creating a barrier between them.

When nothing happened, Aaron let the couch go. It hit the floor with a thud and, of course, there was no one in the apartment. His downstairs neighbor — a younger guy who was a nurse or something like that — pounded on his floor a couple times.

So you’re seeing things and being a shitty neighbor, Aaron admonished himself. He sat down on the couch as gently as he could and put his face in his hands. But you definitely are seeing things. You’re paranoid, hallucinating, and almost lost your shit on Jeff.

He buried thoughts of the suitcase in the closet before they even finished forming. It wasn’t going to do him any good when he was losing his mind.

And I am losing my mind, he thought. There’s nothing else for it; in the morning you’re checking yourself into a psych hospital.

Aaron slumped back on the couch. Dawn was hours away, but there was no way he was going to let himself go back to sleep. What if he had more dreams that drove him even deeper into madness? He wasn’t willing to take that risk.

So, he waited.