Read Dreamers (The Dreamers Series) for Free Online Page B

you can spend more time here with me and less time in the dark room at school. It was a purely selfish gesture.”
    “Well, I love your selfishness then,” I squeal.
    “You’re welcome, Kid. Now stop gushing and get those pictures developed from the cemetery. I want the ones I took of you done first. You were bangin’.”
    “Done and done.”
    “Do your thing. I’m gonna head to bed and watch some boob tube. I’ll see you in the morning,” she says, pardoning herself goodnight.
    “Thank you so much. This is the best gift ever—aside from the Pear Berry.” I smile.
    “Smells good on ya’.” She blushes.
    “Goodnight, Heather.”
    “Goodnight, Kid.”
    ***
    The first few photos didn’t come out very well. It was the correct solution, only it’s not the same as I use at school, so it’s taking some getting used to. I process and hang the last few, and then take a break to the kitchen for an iced tea.
    Fatigue begins to set in the longer I remain still. Between the dreams and the sleepwalking disrupting my sleep, my body is simply done. I dig through the medicine cabinet in search of some sleep aid. Lana’s Ambien is still on the shelf, as is some regular over-the-counter sleeping pills. I opt for the Ambien, checking the date before popping one in my mouth. If it kills me I have to get some sleep tonight, so I want the stronger pill. I really want to visit Mia and the boys tomorrow, and if I don’t get some rest I won’t be fit to drive. This will ensure that no matter how wicked my dreams become, I won’t be able to startle awake.
    It’s been around twenty minutes since I hung my pictures, and I’m anxious to bring them out and take a look. I walk back into my dark room and begin poking around with my photographs. Just as I thought, the one of Heather is stunning. She looks so natural. It’s amazing. I pick through a few of the others, unimpressed. The ones Heather took of me are up next on the line. I’ll admit, I am curious of why Heather was looking at me the way she was. She took four shots of me, all lying on the ground. They really are good pictures. There is a hippy-ish quality to the way my body blends into nature.
    In the back ground there is something catching my eye. I assume it’s some type of blur. Heather isn’t used to operating a commercial camera, so I could just be slightly out of focus. I take it into the hallway where the lighting is better to better analyze the blur. The picture drops from my trembling fingers, hitting the floor as the image come into focus. This is impossible; there is no way this could be real. I run back to the dark room, jerking the other three pictures from the hang line. It’s then that I see it—clearly.
    “Oh my god.”
    ***

4
Red Wine and Ambien
    When dreams become a reality there is no obvious escape path. I’m not safe from him, no matter which physical state I assume—he’s here. I peer deeply into the photo, melting the obvious image into my eyes. Any question of coincidence disappears swiftly. The cold gray headstone lunges from the photo, nestled directly behind my beautiful tree. A headstone in a cemetery is not big surprise, obviously. Yet, this one is unique and clearly states his name—Dominick Manning, the same name which has haunted me since I learned of Lana’s fate.
    She was telling the truth, he’s real.
    I have to tell Heather, she needs to know. She has to face the fact that something dark is lurking in her home. I can’t overlook the irony of being in that specific cemetery, shooting photos at that particular spot. This is fate—intervention. A sign. I won’t ignore it.
    “Heather!” I bellow down the narrow hallway.
    Several long seconds pass before jingles hit my ears and she stumbles towards me half awake.
    “What’s up, Kid?”
    “Look.” I throw the photo into her hand, waiting anxiously for her reaction.
    For a moment I think she catches the image as her eyes stay glued to the thick paper. Her smile tells me