Purissima, California

I found myself cornered against the bridge abutment, totally surrounded. With my back against the concrete bridge foundation, I prepared to make my desperate last stand. I could see their faces, empty and leering, as they surrounded me. They appeared to be unarmed but I realized that they were fiercely strong, and despite my efforts, I could not fight them off even one at a time, let alone eight of them.

Defeated, I tried to plead with them. Their cold dead eyes showed neither mercy nor humanity. Only a desperate hunger. I recognized the curly haired guy who had driven up in the Volvo, who somehow seemed to be the leader.

"Please... you can have my wallet...my phone..." I said, pleading, as if it would make a difference. I knew it would not.

The leader held out a broken glass pipe, like a used crack pipe. Its jagged razor sharp edge glinted in the pale light. He raised his arm to slash at me with it, and in blind instinct, I raised my left hand to block the impending blow. In an instant, I felt the slash of the glass as it lacerated my hand, sending blood spraying as I screamed in horror and defeat. They swarmed in. Hands reached at me, grabbed me, held me down, pinned my arms. Leering faces swooped in, tongues out, braying with mindless delight. They moved in to feed. Darkness closed in.

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I found myself lying in a dark room, blood seeping out of my hand. I sat up.

It was then that I realized I was lying in my own bed, at home. My heart pounded both with terror and a sudden feeling of relief. I was safe after all.

The horrible town, the leering drugged out vampires- even the dream date gone horribly wrong- none of it was real.

So then, why was my left hand cut and bleeding?

Sure enough, when I stumbled out of bed, there was a large, bloody gash across the palm of my left hand. I staggered into the bathroom and turned on the light, confused and my head spinning. I ran my hand under warm water, dousing the wound with soap and rubbing alcohol, then put a bandage on it. I tried to rationalize how this could have happened- had I unknowingly cut my hand on something while I was asleep? I MUST have, I thought.

Though, when I rummaged through the bedsheets and the nightstand next to the bed, I found nothing- no sharp objects, no shards of glass, nothing at all to explain how I could have injured my hand like that. Suddenly, a loud braying noise made me jump out of my skin. But it was only the alarm clock. I must have woken up just a couple minutes early. With a sigh, I realized the only thing to do was get dressed and get ready for work.

Just another Monday, I thought. Back to the grind; I had a busy day ahead. I began thinking about what I had to do- Roetteger's work order needed reconciling, Abe Mendoza needed his permits expedited. I needed to go be my essential cog in the mundane daily rhythm of the modern corporate world. I got dressed, grabbed a quick granola bar and a cup of coffee and hopped in the car, still nursing my bandaged hand. Still pondering the mystery of exactly HOW it had gotten injured, and in my mind, still seeing the vacant leering faces of those decayed minds in a decaying and ruined coastal town.

Only there was no decay on Brockwood Street or Dutton Avenue. Just expensive designer coffee houses, trendy micro-brew pubs, and modern gleaming office buildings, much like the one I was headed to. Despite the clogged streets, with the glut overpriced luxury SUV's with the big blingy chrome grilles, I considered myself lucky; it was a short commute, only a couple miles to the office. I got there at least five minutes before 8.

By the time I got to my desk, the pain in my hand had oddly subsided. When I peeled off the band aid, it was like the wound had almost miraculously closed and healed in just a matter of minutes. I sat down, checked my morning e-mails, and settled into my day.

---------------------------------------- Epilogue: -------------------------------------------------------------

Two hours later, standing next to her at the cafeteria, smiling at her, taking in her sparkling dark eyes and almost blushing. I asked how her weekend was, and told her about mine. My weekend had been pretty uneventful, actually. I'd gone on a mountain bike ride, had a couple beers with buddies, did some yard work. Good old thirtysomething bachelor type stuff.

"So, uh Jennifer," I asked. "Have you ever heard of a place called Chalcedony Cove? Just north of..."

"I know that place! Oh my God, I LOVE that beach!" she replied.

"Yeah, it's a cool hike down through the redwoods...and there's those offshore sea arches. You ever walk through that tunnel there in the side of the cliff? That leads to a whole other beach, with more arches." I replied.

"Yeah...not many people go there."

"So... I just had an idea. Maybe WE could go up there, this weekend. We could stop off and grab something to eat on the way, over in Guerneville or something, and head on up."

But she only shook her head and said, "Um, sorry; I've got plans with my boyfriend this weekend. Maybe some other time. Plus..." she added "I really don't date guys I work with. To be honest, I get a little defensive when guys at work try asking me out. It really isn't appropriate, you know. But don't worry. We'll keep this our little secret from Human Resources, right?"

Blushing and crestfallen, I replied, "Oh. Okay. Well, that's cool. I mean... You got a boyfriend and all, I didn't mean anything by it. I was just wondering. So anyway, up the coast, I just like exploring places up that way though. There is a lot of cool stuff to see."

"Well, be careful about some of the places you explore up there. When you go poking your hands in dark places, sometimes they get cut." She replied. And, glancing downward, she pointed at my left hand.