Page 47 of Little Shattered Dreams

“Sounds like we better get some sleep then. Going to be a long day tomorrow.”

“I agree.”

I switched off the light and leaned back.

And then there were fourteen.

Six guests, including Simone and me.

Seven staffers.

One owner.

And somewhere in that mix, one cold-blooded murderer.

CHAPTER24

I opened my eyes and found myself sitting in the passenger seat of what appeared to be a beat-up old car. It was small and shaped like a Pinto. Maybe it was one. I couldn’t be sure. I looked down and noticed I was still wearing the silk nightdress I’d worn to bed. My seatbelt wasn’t fastened. I tried pulling it over my body, but it wouldn’t budge. I guessed it was broken just like almost everything else seemed to be inside this car.

The floor mat beneath my feet was littered with stains—and not small stains either. Large ones. Big, black blemishes that looked like splotches of oil had leaked over parts of it, and there was a twelve-inch crack in the dashboard.

I breathed in a lungful of stale air. It smelled like cigarettes and cheap perfume. I glanced out the window. It was night but there were flashes of visibility, thanks to a hint of a crescent moon peeking through the clouds.

Where was I?

And why was I here?

It didn’t take long for me to find my answer.

Iwasn’there.

I was in a dream.

I turned to my left. The woman driving the car looked like a younger version of Quinn Abernathy. Her hands gripped the steering wheel as her eyes fixated on the road. She didn’t seem to know I was there beside her. Or if she did, she hadn’t acknowledged me yet.

“Quinn? Is it you?” I asked.

She didn’t look my way, didn’t offer any indication that she’d heard me.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. “What amIdoing here?”

Again, she ignored me. I tapped her shoulder with a finger, hoping it would force her to acknowledge my presence, and it worked.

“Stop it,” she said. “I’m trying to drive. Can’t you see?”

“Where are we?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Itdoesmatter.”

“I didn’t ask you to be here. You chose to be.”

“If you don’t want me here, if you’re not going to explain why I’m here, pull over and let me out.”

Her eyes flooded with tears. “Let you out? Let yourself out. Don’t you get it? None of this is real.”

“I know it’s not real. I have dreams like this sometimes. They’re always the same. You want to show me something or tell me something or both. Which is it?”

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