The elevator stopped. Jenny walked through the open doors-into another elevator.
"Can we take you? We can carry you."
The little man in the silver mask was laughing.
Jenny's head jerked up and she sat staring. A plane. She was in a plane, not an elevator. A plane which, at the moment, seemed crammed to its dim corners with menace. She was alone, because everyone else was asleep. The other passengers could all have been wax museum figures. Beside her Michael was completely motionless, his head on Audrey's shoulder.
As she watched, his eyes flew open and he made a terrible sound. He sat bolt upright, hands at his throat. He looked like someone who couldn't get air.
"What is it?" Audrey had jerked awake. There were times when Audrey acted as if she didn't care about Michael at all, but this wasn't one of them.
Michael went on staring, looking absolutely terrified. Jenny's skin was rippling with fear.
"Michael, can you breathe? Are you all right?" Audrey said.
He did breathe, then, a long shaky intake of air. He let it out and slumped back against the seat. His dark brown eyes, normally heavy-lidded, were still wide.
"I had a dream."
"You, too?" Jenny said. Dee was leaning over the armrest of her seat across the aisle. Other people were looking at them, disturbed from sleep. Jenny avoided their eyes.
"What about?" she said, keeping her voice low. "Was it-it wasn't about an elevator, was it?" She had no idea what her own dream meant, but she felt sure it was bad.
"What? No. It was about Summer," he said, licking his lips as if to get rid of a bad taste.
"Oh ..."
"But it wasn't all of Summer. It was her head. It was on a table, and it was talking to me."
A sensation of unspeakable horror washed over Jenny. That was when the plane plummeted.
Jenny screamed. It didn't matter, everyone was screaming. Dee, who had unbuckled her seat belt to lean toward Michael, was bounced upward so hard her head almost hit the ceiling.
They were falling, and the sensation was worse than a thousand elevators. There was nothing beneath Jenny because the seat was falling away.
What do people think about when they're going to die? What should I be thinking?
Tom. She should think about Tom and how she loved him. But it was impossible, there was no room inside her for anything but astonishment and fear.
Then the plane lurched up. Instead of falling, her seat was pressing against her. The whole thing had taken only a second or so.
The pilot's voice came on over the intercom, smooth and rich as cream soda. "Ah, sorry about that, folks-we hit a little turbulence. We're going to try to get above this weather; in the meantime please keep your seat belts fastened."
Just turbulence. Ordinary stuff. They weren't going to die.
Jenny looked out the window again. She couldn't see much; they were in the middle of clouds. Mist and darkness -
Just like the mist and darkness the Shadow Men bring, her mind raced on irresistibly. Any minute now you'll see the eyes, the hungry, hungry eyes ...
But she didn't see anything.
"Hey, listen," Michael was saying huskily. "About my dream-"
"It was just a dream," Audrey said, ever practical. Jenny was grateful for the little edge in Audrey's voice, the sharp edge of reason. Like a wake-up slap.
"Just a dream. Didn't mean anything," Jenny echoed-unfairly, because she didn't for a moment believe that. But she had no idea what it did mean, and ganging up on Michael was the only comfort available. Was Julian behind it? Torturing them with images of Summer? Nightmares were the Shadow Man's specialty.
The Shadow Man. Like the Sandman, only he brings nightmares. And by now he knows us all, knows our weak points. He can bring our worst fears to life, and they may not be real, but we won't be able to tell the difference.