Dave Woke Up

By Daniel Eavenson

Dave is an older guy working in a job that he doesn't hate, but maybe hates him. His life is the typical crap sandwich of depression and other people that makes up our waking world. Until the day he sees something that no one else can see. Ash statues that seem to blow away before anyone else might see them. Thinking he is a regular form of crazy Dave seeks the help of our nation's medical system while his condition deepens from hallucinations to apparitions. Then someone dies. Then a lot of someones die. Escaping into the suburbs Dave attempts to find the link between himself and the horror surrounding him. If Dave needs to get out of bed long enough to do something about the hate death of the universe, humanity is in a lot of trouble.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Daniel Eavenson
• Release date: Apr 18, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311186324

Book preview

Dave Woke Up

By Daniel Eavenson

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2013 by Daniel Eavenson

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the creator, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the creator, addressed Yo: I like your book and want to copy it, at the electronic mail address below.

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The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Probably.

Cover art created by the incredibly talented Garrett Weinzierl.

Dedication

For Mary Schneider

She couldn’t show me the future.

She could only talk me through it.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I owe my parents most of the things in my life. The childhood and education they provided for me made it possible for me to find the time to write this book. Wright and Ruth Eavenson raised two kids, a cat and a dog with their lives and I’m forever grateful.

My writing group were the first people to look at this, and they were there as I shaped it up into what you will be reading in a few sentences. They are Anne Anderson, Jenny Oberth, Ellie Oberth, George Dibble, Julie Leahy, Sheila E. Valesano, Izabelle Cassandra, Sabrina Savra, Natalia Maridakis and Cat Bergan. I had started this book when I’d met all of them, but I never would have finished it without them. I think most of them don’t like it, but it’s better because of them.

I want to thank Ray Ornias for reminding me that I’m worth more than most people would say. Me especially.

Table of Contents

Dedication

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Depression is the inability to construct a future. -Rollo May

Chapter 1

Dave woke up tired. He always seemed to wake up tired. It didn’t really matter how much sleep he got or how early he went to bed. When he woke up, it was immediately regretted. Today was Tuesday. Not a great day and not made any better by waking up tired. As Tuesdays went, and they usually didn’t, being tired was never one of the great things about Tuesday. It was amazing how much the rest of the week was also like Tuesday.

Dave opened his eyes and leaned his head up. His vision focused on the burning display of the digital alarm clock on the other side of the room. He realized with recorded horror that he’d spent about an hour philosophizing about the relationship between being tired and Tuesday. It was the kind of fear that didn’t make you afraid. It was the kind that balled up in your chest and rolled around like a lazy puppy until it found that perfect worn-in spot and settled in for a long rest. Dave didn’t like to be afraid, especially when nothing had really happened yet today, but then for him it was status quo. His eyes blinked a few times as he dropped his head back into a pillow and moaned into the quiet morning, thinking about the day ahead.

Of course that wasn’t what he was really thinking about. His brain was running like it usually did, with one part contemplating all the things he was supposed to be thinking about while the more front-facing part of his mind was using his eyes. He was staring up at the ceiling worrying about how he wasn’t really thinking about all of the things that the other part of his brain was telling him he was supposed to be thinking about. He needed to distract himself or his two brains were going to give him a panic attack.

He started to think really hard about why his ceiling was so white. It was definitely white, not eggshell, stone or sand. Just simple white. He imagined that the owners of his apartment must have gotten some deal on white paint, probably the kind of thing that you could get when you were buying in bulk for a building with a few hundred spots in it. He started to think there was no way he was going to be able to distract himself with thoughts of how white his ceiling was. He looked back at the clock and groaned at the loss of another half an hour.

He threw the covers off his body and immediately regretted the action. The morning wasn’t cold, but his covers were warm and his body really couldn’t tell the exact temperature in the room. It just knew that this was not preferable to the warmth provided by sheets and comforter. Dave started to think about how much he really didn’t want to get up as he forced his legs over the side of the bed. It was arduous. He had to distract his mind from thinking too much about what was happening so it didn’t take the time to realize what a bad idea it was to get his body moving. He was in the shower when he realized how much he really wanted to go back to bed.

He stared into the bottom of the shower, looking at how some grime had started to form between the little hills and valleys of the traction-safe bottom of his shower. He wriggled his toes around, trying to see if he could rub off the grime. Later, after not having any sort of success, he finally got around to turning the water on. He let it run for a while out of the primary spigot. Let it get good and warm. It didn’t really matter, there was always about two seconds worth of frigid water that would hit him square in the face when the shower head spurted into life. When it happened, Dave felt it was the universe summing up its feelings on Tuesdays and more likely all workdays in general.

Thoughts on the philosophical practical jokes of the universe didn’t really help him start off the day any better. If anything, it kick started a thread of annoyance that seem to worm its way into his mind. He started looking around the shower for other things to get annoyed about while he soaped up his head with shampoo. The shampoo. Dave was probably going to run out of that soon. Nothing was more annoying than going to the grocery store, especially when he didn’t need more than a couple things. This usually led to using some soap for shampoo, or vice versa when it was bath soap that he was running short on. It didn’t really make a difference, right? Just needed to get clean. He supposed that he could switch to one of those all-over bath gel things, but then that would probably require using some kind of loofa. Having a loofa was a little to emasculating, even for Dave.

He realized that he was done with the shower as he was running through a list of all his least manly attributes. The other half of his brain was really enjoying just standing under the hot water. He shut the water down and pulled the shower curtain back, looking into his little bathroom. This room was also white. His whole apartment was white. The sink was some kind of faux stone and was a kind of beige color but streaked with some metallic and earthy highlights to make you think it was way more expensive than it needed to be. The fixtures were all stainless steel, but really they just reflected all the rest of the room, which was white. Looking into the only mirror he owned--well, that he rented--he saw himself. He sighed into the reflection and gave his sagging belly a slap and watched his skin undulate from the energy. The soft light of the bathroom made his skin seem less pale, at least compared to the white of the room. It contrasted dark hair, though it thinned to white at odd places. Dave ran a hand through damp hair and turned to leave the bathroom.

Just outside of the white-tiled floor he could see the beige carpeting of the rest of his apartment. Why wasn’t the carpeting white? Of course, beige was the blandest of all colors, and white carpet, where would you even get that?

He dressed himself in silence. His alarm had shut itself off at some point since he’d rolled out of bed. Had it even gone off? Something had woken him. Dave couldn’t remember. Had he ever even set the thing since he purchased it? A large sigh was his only explanation to himself. He looked into his closet and picked out a black-collared shirt and brown khaki pants. Most of his clothes were darker colors and earthy tones. It made him feel comfortable to just choose whatever was close at hand, since he had never been great at choosing colors that went well together. It was easier to just buy things that would all go together than to try to get adventurous with his clothing options.

He tossed the clothes onto the bed and sorted through his boxer options. Eventually he chose a well-worn solid blue pair. Not old enough to have holes but worn enough that they didn’t tend to bunch or shift during his long day of sitting. Boxer choices are important when you use your behind as much as Dave did. His entire support structure for the day was bound up in his lower back and buttocks. He slid the clothes on slowly, taking his time to make sure that everything fit comfortably. Nothing he owned was new, but he didn’t really think you could reasonably throw out clothing that didn’t have a hole in it. Once a piece of clothing had holes in it you could still wear it, just not for the things you used to. It was a different kind of clothing, the kind you couldn’t wear to the office but that would be fine with the right kind of company or activity. He leafed through a few of this kind of clothing, wondering what his officemates would think if he strolled in wearing some of these old beauties. His closet was carefully segregated between his older and more decrepit clothing. He had to be careful because they all kind of looked the same hanging in the closet. You couldn’t really tell which was which without some careful inspection. Even if the hole was in a less circumspect location Dave couldn’t wear it to the office anymore. His officemates would find it eventually. They were always better at seeing those kinds of things than Dave was.

He started hunting around the apartment for all his daily accoutrements. Cell phone, iPod, laptop, and headphones were all needed to get him through the day. Tuesday, right? Dave was pretty sure it was Tuesday. He tapped the big button on his phone. His phone was dead. He tossed it back into his pocket and pulled out his iPod. This time the big button lit up the screen showing the date and the time. Tuesday it was.

He stepped out his door into the hallway of the apartment complex. The walls here were all muted brown and earth tones. The lights that lined the hallway were all in long glazed fixtures that always made him think of hotel lobbies. He started swinging his keys around his finger, gunslinger style, as he made his way down the hall and out the door. None of his neighbors were around. Not that he ever really saw them or had any intention of talking to them. It’s not that he didn’t like his neighbors, but he didn’t know his neighbors well enough to like or not like them. He didn’t want to know them. Thinking about it made him shiver a little with some latent anxiety. Dave liked people, as long as they were respecting his space.

His car was in the parking lot between a black SUV and beige four-door sedan. His was a kind of sporty two-door sedan. He’d read that it was one of the most stolen cars in America. Of course, that was coupled with it being one of the most widely sold cars in America. Dave was parked at the edge of the lot furthest from the building. The front of his car was facing into a retention pond that stretched the length of the property and bordered another apartment complex. He went to click his remote to unlock the car when his finger closed awkwardly around the fob and caused the whole assembly of keys to go spinning out of his grip and under the car. He let out a slow breath, and gave serious thought to calling in sick and going back to bed. Of course, he’d need his keys to get back inside, so practicality won the day.

He was groping around under the car for the keys when he heard a sound. It was like leaves rustling or maybe air moving over paper. He saw feet from under the car. Feet attached to bone thin legs. The feet stood sturdily as if rooted to the ground, or perhaps growing from it. They were male feet. He could tell somehow. It just struck him that these were the feet of a man. He thought how odd that was, since when he first saw feet like this it had been difficult to accept that they were even human feet.

The skin was grey with patches of solid black. The stalk of the leg flowed into a thick ankle and foot, but it was as if the skin was a sock because it ended in a big toe and an indistinct mitten-like collection of vague smaller digits. The skin flaked and curled off the leg like ashes rising off of a burning plank of wood. He knew though that the wind would not touch these loose bits of flesh. Instead, they drifted as they fell and broke into pieces, smaller and smaller until they fell from sight. Dave was struck with a bout of nausea and vomited under the car, with the odd dread that his heaving was causing him to breathe in whatever detritus was coming off these ashen, wasting feet.

He stood quickly after wiping his mouth and saw the head which were at the far end of the body from the feet he’d just seen. The skin was the same as the feet, but the debris of the flaking skin was greater. The flaking made a growing shade around the figure. The aspects of the face were unclear. Indistinct. Like looking at someone’s face through foggy glass. The eyes were burning coals. The detritus of the skin seemed to have blackened and hardened where the sockets and eyes should be. In the center of that dark mass the material was red and glowing as if hot, though no smoke or heat could be seen. Dave could feel it. The burning gaze of the thing was locked onto him the moment his head had peaked over the car.

It didn’t make a sound. It didn’t move. It just looked at Dave.

Dave was suddenly acutely aware of himself. He could feel his tight dry skin like it was contracting around his body, dragging his eyes open, snarling his lips, pricking his ears. The muscles of his arms and legs were cramping sending searing pain into this back and groin. He could feel his hair, like it was writhing in his head and the roots were losing their grip in his scalp. His clothes felt like sandpaper on his skin, like they were rubbing him raw. He squeezed his eyelids shut over dry eyes despite the pain. His fists clinched tight. His fingernails dug into his palm. This pain was different. He was causing it to himself. It focused him. He could feel the other pain subsiding. He was forgetting what he had seen. He heard a clap.

He squinted an eye open and peered into the space across the top of his car. Nothing. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. There was the faint smell of exhaust and pine. Faintly, he could perceive the smell of the deodorant soap he had used this morning. It was probably reacting to the cold sweat that had broken out on his body. He opened his eyes and swiveled his head around a few times. The lot was empty of other people. Full of cars, but no people.

He took a couple of ragged, shuddering breaths and got into his car. He shut the door and felt the pressure of the slammed door slide through the car. It was hot in the car. Outside had actually been pretty comfortable, but the sun had been hitting the car for a couple of hours and had gotten the internal temperature up into the range of hot. He took two more fast breaths and tasted the stale air inside the car. It was thick and warm. He took comfort in the feeling of breathing and being a little more certain he was really alive. It helped to put some reality to what had just happened. Of course, it also made him remember what had been happening to him.

He was seeing them. He was seeing things. The things were them.

Dave shivered in the hot car and gripped the steering wheel. He shut his eyes