Date: Mid-1983 Location:
Cincinnati, Ohio, and rural Southern states The roar of the crowd had barely faded when the piercing wail of sirens cut through the night. The "Midnight Serpent" race had just crowned Leo champion, but the celebration was cut short. Blue and red lights flashed in the distance, growing closer, reflecting off the corrugated steel of the abandoned mill.
"Cops!" someone yelled, and the crowd instantly dissolved, a chaotic wave of scattering cars and running figures. Leo, still basking in his victory, cursed. "Damn it! How'd they find us?"
Janiece grabbed my arm, her thoughts a blend of adrenaline and genuine fear. Run, Ruru! Run! "Get in, Leo!" she screamed, yanking open the passenger door of the Mustang.
"Go, go, go!" Leo jammed the gear into reverse, tires spitting gravel, and then peeled forward, the Mustang's engine screaming. I scrambled into the back seat as the first police cruiser burst into the mill, its spotlight sweeping the chaotic scene. The chase was a blur of speed, skill, and desperate maneuvers.
Leo was a natural, weaving the powerful car through narrow alleyways and deserted industrial streets. Janiece hung out the window, shouting directions, her mind a frantic map of shortcuts and dead ends.
My own senses were on hyper-alert, pushing through the mental strain. I felt the surge of adrenaline from Leo, the thrill and terror from Janiece, and, distantly, the frustrated determination of the pursuing officers. My power hummed, a dangerous live wire.
A police cruiser gained on us, its siren a deafening shriek. I felt the intent of the officer behind the wheel – cut them off, trap them. Without thinking, I sent a subtle pulse of telekinetic energy, not enough to damage, but just enough to flicker the green light at the next intersection to red for a crucial second, forcing the cruiser to brake hard.
Leo swerved through the now-yellow light, gaining a precious lead. We hurtled down a wide street, the Mustang a black streak against the neon glow of the city. Another cruiser was attempting a pincer move from a side street.
They've got us! Janiece's thought screamed. My head pounded. I focused, my power radiating outward. A stack of empty oil drums, left haphazardly near a loading dock, seemed to wobble, then topple in the cruiser's path, creating a noisy, chaotic obstacle that forced them to swerve.
The Mustang roared ahead, leaving the cursing officers in our dust. My nose began to bleed, a warm gush I ignored, my focus absolute. My temples throbbed. This wasn't just precision; it was control under duress, a high-wire act of mental gymnastics.
The surge of raw kinetic force, the destructive power, was a constant temptation, but I fought it back, channeling it into subtle, surgical strikes.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Leo executed a perfect drift into a darkened warehouse district, killed the lights, and ducked the Mustang into a cavernous, empty bay. We sat in the choking silence, the distant wail of sirens slowly fading.
We'd made it. The relief was a physical ache. Leo sagged against the steering wheel, breathing heavily. Janiece, usually so boisterous, was quiet, her adrenaline slowly bleeding out, replaced by a quiet awe. She turned to me, her eyes wide.
"You know," she said, her voice softer than I'd ever heard it, almost a whisper, "that green light turning red? And those barrels? I mean, what are the odds? Such a coincidence." She leaned in, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Or maybe... not?" My heart gave a sudden, sharp lurch.
I met her gaze, a flicker of alarm crossing my mind, quickly replaced by a strange sense of being truly seen. Her intuition, sharp as a razor, had cut through my careful facade. She didn't know how, but she knew I did something. My silence, my barely perceptible flinch, was all the confirmation she needed.
A tiny, knowing smile touched her lips. "Yeah," I managed, my voice a little rougher than I intended. "Guess we got lucky." She didn't press. She just nodded slowly, a deep understanding passing between us that transcended words.
"You were incredible, Ruru," she said again, but this time, her gaze held a deeper meaning. But the close call had reinforced my resolve. This life, while exhilarating, was a dangerous distraction from my true mission. Leo would lay low for a while.
Janiece, ever resilient, would find another adventure. But I couldn't stay. The conversation happened a few days later, over greasy fries at an all-night diner.
Janiece listened, her usual boisterous energy subdued. I told her I had to leave Cincinnati, that I needed to see more, learn more. I kept it vague, speaking of wanderlust and finding my "place." "But... we're a team, Ruru," she said, her voice small, her mental state a mix of sadness and understanding.
I'm gonna miss him so much. "You're the best friend I've ever had, Janiece," I told her, and I meant it with every fiber of my being. There was no romance between us, no longing glances. Just a fierce, unbreakable bond forged in shared thrills and quiet understanding.
This was the first true friendship I'd had since being reborn, and it stung to break it. "But I have to do this. I have to find answers." She nodded, biting her lip. "Well, you promise to send a postcard, huh, 'glasses'?" She even used my disguise's nickname, a shared secret between us. "I promise," I said, a rare, genuine smile touching my lips.
The next morning, I was on the road again, my duffel bag lighter, my heart heavier. No bus ticket this time. I stood on the shoulder of a dusty highway, thumb out, letting fate guide me.
Hitchhiking was an exercise in vulnerability, but also in observation. Each ride, each stranger, was a puzzle. I used my telepathy cautiously, gauging intentions, seeking out the genuine ones amidst the cautious and the few truly dangerous minds.
I met truckers with endless stories, quiet families on vacation, and solitary wanderers with eyes full of ghosts. Each gave me a brief, unfiltered glimpse into the vast, complicated tapestry of America. Days blurred into weeks as I traversed the Midwest and dipped into the humid, sprawling Southern states.
The psychic hum of the world was a constant companion, but now I had filters, a mental dial that could turn the volume up or down. I still searched for subtle signs of the Upside Down's influence or remnants of lab experiments, but most of what I encountered was simply... humanity.
Then, one scorching afternoon, my ride, a quiet older man in a dusty pickup, dropped me off near a rural crossroads in what felt like the middle of nowhere.
He was heading further south, and I needed to turn off onto a less-traveled route. As I walked, the oppressive heat seemed to amplify the subtle shifts in the air, but what truly caught my attention was a discordant symphony of human emotions.
A few miles down the winding, unpaved road, nestled deep within the dense woods, my empathic senses were assaulted by a cacophony of raw ambition, desperate yearning, and a pervasive undercurrent of unease. It wasn't the cold, alien fear of the Upside Down. This was purely human, but no less chilling.
Following the strongest emotional currents, I came upon a secluded, dilapidated farmhouse. Cars were parked haphazardly, and loud voices drifted from inside. My telepathy sharpened, picking up fragmented thoughts: film… money… this is it… a breakthrough… And then, cutting through the ambition, a series of darker, more disturbing thoughts, like a splinter of ice in my mind: thoughts of possession, of twisted desires, of an almost predatory hunger.
I saw a young woman with a striking face and a defiant glint in her eyes, arguing passionately with a man holding a camera. I recognized her vaguely from a magazine cover I'd glimpsed in a convenience store. She was an aspiring actress, or so her thoughts projected.
Jenna Ortega, I seemed to recall the name. She and her companions were here for one purpose, a purpose that now felt deeply, horribly wrong. The air around the isolated farm pulsed with a building tension, a sense of something fundamentally broken.
This was no otherworldly monster. This was something far more insidious, something that wore a human face. It was a different kind of darkness, a stark reminder that the "strangeness" of America wasn't just about parallel dimensions or secret government labs.
It was also about the terrifying depths of human evil. My preparation for the Upside Down suddenly felt incomplete. There were more threats in the world than I could have imagined. And I was standing at the edge of one.