Running for Miles by William P Adams

Running for Miles by William P Adams

The dreams began shortly after Miles’s sixth birthday, recurring frequently and invariably in the same form. Frantically running from a group of beings trying to grab him with evil intent, Miles would barely escape capture before waking up in a cold sweat. His pursuers were silent, amorphous, and unknowable. The exhilarating feeling while outrunning and avoiding imminent danger was palpable, and as the years went by, Miles took a measure of strange comfort in the dream–as long as he woke up before he felt a hand, or claw, or worse…

One Saturday in the fall of his twelfth year, Miles had plans to meet Rudy Foster at Rudy’s house to trade collectible monster cards. Miles had an extra Wolfman to swap for the Space Creature Rudy had pulled from a pack the week before. Rudy’s dad, Rudy Senior, worked at the Bizarco Copper smelter and often napped on their sofa, ground zero for a putrid, rotten egg smell that wafted through the tiny house. Miles imagined Mr. Foster on a monster card as “Stank-a-Tor,” a hideous beast who subdued its victims with a sulfurous wave of toxic fumes.

As Miles made his way to Rudy’s, four high-school-aged kids sauntered out from behind an old house that had seen better days, casually strolling toward him on the sidewalk – three boys and a girl. They drew near and surrounded him. One of the boys asked Miles if he wanted to see something in the garage. Miles said no and tried to step around, but the other two boys blocked his path, and he stood glued to the sidewalk. The boy who asked if Miles wanted to see something said he’d like what was inside. Miles tried to maneuver his way out of their circle but felt powerless against their urging and naively followed them into the old, ramshackle, dirt-floored garage. One of the boys shut the door. The only light was from one dirty window that let in the overcast late winter murk. Miles didn’t see anything in the garage that he liked.

The four wore dark clothes, and the boy in charge was in a black leather jacket with metal studs. His longish hair was black and greasy, and red, pus-filled pimples covered his face. The other two boys looked like twin scarecrows and were taller than Pimple Face. The girl was petite, with short blonde hair and an unhealthy pallor. Miles backed up against a workbench with the group in a half-circle, staring at him ominously, not making a sound. He thought about running for the door, but was frozen in fear and could only stand immobile like a statue.

Pimple Face broke the silence and announced it was time to cut the shit and get down to business. Miles was hoping the shit wasn’t him when Zit Boy pulled something from his jacket pocket that looked like a knife handle and held it in front of his acne-covered phizog. A sharp, shiny steel blade suddenly appeared. With a grin, showing a mouthful of brownish teeth, he put the knife point against Miles’ chest. The Blonde Girl then caught Pimple Face’s eye and shook her head no. Miles could tell she was scared for him and didn’t want to see it go any further. The Carbuncle Kid hissed at her not to interrupt; then he moved the point of the knife from Miles’ chest to under his chin. Miles looked over at the girl, and she closed her eyes and gave her head another quick shake.

The knife blade suddenly retracted with a metallic snick. Pimple Face looked at the handle and began stabbing the release button with his thumb, but the blade locked down. His confused gaze toward Blondie morphed quickly into rage, and he drew back the knife handle to throw at her. Instead, his arm suddenly whipped backward, and the knife flew out of his hand with the blade released, lodging in a stud on the side of the garage up to the hilt. The scarecrow twins scrambled and tripped over each other as they tried to exit the garage. They managed to untangle their limbs and beat it outside before the door slammed shut, leaving Miles, Pimple Face, and the Blonde Girl inside.

Pimple Face made for the knife, trying to pull it free, but it stuck fast and wouldn’t budge. As he gripped the handle, the girl looked at Miles and motioned with her flaxen head for him to exit the garage door, which now stood open. Miles wasted no time scrambling out of the old garage with Blondie close behind. As soon as she crossed the dirt threshold, the door banged shut with Pimple Face, the only one left inside.

The twin cohorts were nowhere in sight, and the Blonde Girl and Miles stood outside the garage while Pimple Face beat his fists against the door and let loose with a stream of profane invective. After listening to him raging about all the vile things he had planned for her, she started walking toward the sidewalk, and Miles followed along magnetically. She said her name was Pepsi Black and told Miles her crew had been after him for six years. Miles had never seen any of them around the neighborhood in all that time and was trying to puzzle out what she meant when she put her hands in his and told him that her people, the Dream Chasers, were the ones trying to catch him in his dreams and that the Chaser left in the garage had gone rogue and was being dealt with at that very moment. Her hands were warm and tingling with an otherworldly electricity that Miles found more stimulating than all the carnival thrill rides, firework displays, and Christmas mornings combined. She let go, and Miles looked down at his hands. When he looked back up, she was gone without a trace.

Miles looked and saw the garage door standing open and ventured nearer to have a peek inside. Lying on the dirt floor was a pile of black goo, smoldering with a foul stench, not unlike the rotten egg smell at Rudy’s house.

Miles never had the dreams again and didn’t see his other captors after that day. He couldn’t remember if he made it to Rudy’s – the Wolfman card was still in his pocket. Oddly enough, the Space Creature card was there as well. He also had a peculiar craving for a particular fizzy drink.

* * * * THE END * * * *
Copyright William P Adams 2025