It was the inner calm that surprised him.
By rights he should have been panicked. He had woken to the sound of a gravely, menacing voice in his bedroom. The voice had been coupled with the discovery that his left leg was thrashing beneath the covers in a movement that mirrored his dream effort to kick a door open.
He might have convinced himself the voice was a carryover from his dream - one of those tendrils that lingers in the gray world between sleep and waking - had it not been for a repeat of the rough whisper after he had pushed himself upright and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
Intrigued rather than frightened, he got to his feet just in time to see a silhoutte break from the shadows and move out of the room. He followed at a steady pace. In the hallway he heard footsteps advance to the front door. He was staring at the front door when he heard it open and close....yet the door never moved.
What the hell was going on?
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