Read Dreamwalkers Book One - The Intruder. A Markland Garraway Paranormal Mystery Thriller Page 4

Four Hours Earlier

  16th September

  10.59p.m.

 

  Hanrahan Trafford was in a bad way. He was worried sick and anxious beyond belief. His mind was frazzled and his stomach knotted.

 

  Han had gone to bed just before eleven, and although his mind was stressed, he was asleep within minutes. For the first few hours he dreamt of nothing that he would remember. But just after three a.m. he experienced the same nightmare he’d had for the past two nights.

  In the nightmare he’d heard the sound of a creaking door. He opened his eyes and just like the past couple of nights saw a form of a figure standing in his doorway. His bedroom door was open, creating a silhouette of the figure against the dim light from beyond the bedroom. The figure bent forward and picked up a pillow which lay on the floor beside Han’s bed. The next piece of the nightmare always seemed so real. Han knew what would happen next. The shady figure would push the pillow hard down on Han’s face. Every time, Han would experience a very real feeling of suffocation. The power of the figure pushing down upon him was palpable. Han would flail and struggle, whilst the figure in the hat thrust down on him. When the nightmare was over he would sit up in bed shaking and sweating. The experience seemed so real that the second time he’d experienced it he wondered whether he’d actually been killed. Had the figure in his nightmare really been an intruder? Had Han woken up dead? Then after a few moments he would come to his senses and realise that it was nothing other than a nightmare that seemed incredibly real.

  But this time the nightmare was different. He watched the dark figure move towards him gripping the pillow, and Han sat bolt upright and was more afraid than ever. He couldn’t make out the face, but something about the figure seemed familiar. Even though he was asleep and had conjured the situation from his subconscious, Han had a disturbing sense that he wasn’t going to wake up this time. The figure moved towards him with the pillow, and Han pulled back the duvet and jumped out of bed. Han stood on one side of the bed and the figure on the other. For a few seconds neither of them moved. They stared at one another from either side of the bed. Han backed towards the window and the figure dropped the pillow and then, in an Olympian style, vaulted the bed. Han scurried the length of the bed to the door and headed for the landing. The figure moved at an unbelievable pace and as Han stepped out to the landing he felt a hand on his shoulder which yanked him back into the bedroom. He sensed the touch of a plastic glove against his skin as the figure gripped his shoulder. Han fell backwards and his left hand instinctively rose and caught the edge of the dimmer switch on the wall near the door frame. He nudged it enough to turn the switch for the ceiling light to come on and radiate a little light. The room became brighter and Han felt the figure’s grip on his shoulder lessen. The light from the ceiling had taken the dark figure by surprise. Han seized the opportunity, spun around and punched the shady figure square between the eyes. Even though the room was a little lighter, he couldn’t make out enough facial features to see what the figure looked like, but saw the length of black duct tape over his mouth. The figure stepped back and Han threw another punch. The figure fell and landed on his back onto the bed.

  And then everything changed.

  The nightmare ended and Han sat up. He was clammy and shaking. He saw the ceiling light emanated a little glow. It took a few seconds to register that something heavy lay across his legs. He made out the form of something lying sideways across the bed. Whatever it was didn’t stand out well against his navy blue duvet. He was tired and confused. He squinted his eyes as they adjusted to the light. The radio alarm beside his bed told him it was just after three. He turned his attention back to the bed, clasped one hand over his mouth and let out an audible gasp when he saw what it was.

  “Shit!” he whispered and stared at a man lying sideways across his bed. Han sat still and tried to contain his shaking body, but couldn’t. He was too frightened. His muddled brain tried to compute what was going on. He recalled the nightmare with the man in his room and remembered how it ended. He felt a dull throb across the knuckles of his right hand. He took his left hand away from his mouth and rubbed the back of his right. It was as if he’d punched a hole through a wall.

  What’s happening? thought Han.

  He was certain that what had happened had been nothing but a dream. The same dream he’d had the night before and the night before that.

  He wasn’t sure if the man was dead, unconscious or asleep. Either way, Han was petrified. After what seemed an age, he attempted to move his legs from beneath the man and was mindful not to disturb him. He carefully slid one leg from under the stranger but stopped when he heard him groan. Han remained still and evaluated the situation. The man wasn’t dead, so was either asleep, or unconscious. Whichever of the two Han knew he mustn’t wake the intruder. He let out a huge gasp of air. He hadn’t noticed he’d been holding his breath. The intruder lay still. Han continued to pull one leg from beneath the slumped body and this time the intruder remained silent. With one leg free, he found it easier to remove the other. He climbed out of bed and stared at the man who lay face down on the duvet. He was sure it was same man he’d dreamt of. He saw the brimmed hat which was bordered with a white band. It was the same style Al Capone would have worn. Han shuddered as he considered what to do next. He darted out of the bedroom, tiptoed down the stairs and into the utility room. His heart was beating fast, pumping adrenalin charged blood through his veins. He flicked on the light and shuffled through drawers trying to find something with which he could secure the intruder. He found a pair of rugby socks in the washing basket which belonged to his son. He grabbed them and cautiously went back upstairs to his bedroom. He peeped around the door and was relieved to see the intruder hadn’t moved. Within minutes Han had securely tied the man’s feet and hands.

  He slumped to the floor with his back against the bedroom wall and thought through what had just happened. He had no doubt that he’d definitely experienced a nightmare, and it was pretty much the same one he’d had twice before. The creaking of the bedroom door, the dark figure in his room and the struggle as the stranger suffocated him with the pillow. Tonight’s version had started exactly the same, but had ended up so differently.

  Perhaps this is part of the nightmare, what if I’m still dreaming? thought Han.

  He darted to the bathroom and splashed cold water over his face.

  “I’m not dreaming this time,” he whispered.

  He had to call the police. There was an intruder in the house and he needed help. He scurried downstairs to the lounge and picked up his cordless phone.

  “Shit,” he cursed when he saw the thing was out of power. He placed it on the charger and thought about what to do next. He returned to the bedroom and stared at the stranger lying unevenly on the duvet. Han’s heartbeat settled and he was a little calmer. He was sure that when the intruder awoke he wouldn’t be a threat. His legs were bound so he couldn’t walk and his wrists where so tightly secured he wouldn’t be able to hit out.

  Despite being a little calmer Han was more confused than ever. It was if he’d punched the man out of a nightmare and into reality. He turned the dimmer switch a little higher and checked his knuckles on the hand with which he’d punched the man in his dream. They were red and swollen. Han really had hit out at someone or something.

  His thoughts were interrupted by the intruder who stirred.

  Shit, thought Han. Although the man was secured, Han was taking no chances. He ran to his son’s empty room, grabbed his baseball bat from the corner and returned with it raised above his head.

  The intruder groaned and fidgeted. Han took a step closer and tightened his grip on the handle of the bat. The intruder rolled onto his back and in doing so caused the brimmed hat to dip over his brow, partially obscuring his face. Han looked twice, when he saw the strip of black duct tape over his mouth.

  “That black tape was in my dream too, what on earth?” muttered Han.

 
Cautiously he lowered the baseball bat and with the tip of the bat, nudged the hat from the intruder’s head. It fell to the floor and Han’s heart rate shot up. His level of anxiety rocketed the moment he saw the man’s face. He lowered the bat, took a step closer and squinted his eyes. Shaking his head, he reached for the dimmer switch and turned the light up full.

  “No!” exclaimed Han, as he stood over the semiconscious man.

  The man’s eyes opened and rolled around in their sockets. Han’s confused mind stepped up a gear, and he tried to understand what was happening. He watched, as the man’s eyes locked with his and recognition registered. Han took a step closer, leaned towards him and removed the duct tape from the man’s mouth.

  The man spoke first.

  “Dad!”

  “James, what the hell’s going on, where have you been… wha…” Han’s voice trailed off and he threw his arms around his son who had been missing for the past four days.