IT BURNSCharlie woke to hands clawing at him. A scream ripped through his chest but left his mouth as a weak moan, his mouth as wide and round as his frightened eyes. The hands remained on him, fingers scrabbling, and he fought to break free of their awful touch.
“Charlie, c’mon!”
The sound of the voice calling his name—the terror that ran through it like veins of ice—shattered the illusion of attack. In a flash of realization, he knew the fingers were frantic instead of menacing, their touch meant to awaken and not to kill. When his eyes focused, he saw Jeff looking down at him, his own eyes wide with fear. His friend’s face had gone stark white, an expression of pure terror carved into marble. Had Charlie scared him just by starting awake?
Charlie’s answer came with his next breath. T
