Alan Wake

He dreamed of Alice. They were walking along a street in a strange city, the sun shining down on them. They were holding hands, Alice laughing, dragging him along to someplace she wouldn’t tell him. He was happy to be with her, always happy when they were together, but he didn’t like where they were or where they were going. The buildings were falling apart, the windows of the apartments filthy. Alice didn’t seem to mind, though, skipping ahead of him when he lagged behind, beckoning, calling him a fraidy-cat. No cars on the streets, no taxis, which bothered him too, and there was trash everywhere, old newspapers billowing down the sidewalks. He snatched a paper as it tumbled past, the pages brittle and yellowing, the words in a foreign language, a language he didn’t recognize at all. Alice… Alice had kept walking, too far ahead for comfort. He chased after her, but she eluded him effortlessly, her feet dancing over the cracked pavement so that he couldn’t keep up. She was singing something, some old song, a familiar old song… He ran full speed after her, trying to keep up, but getting farther and farther behind. She looked back at him as she danced away, the wind carrying her song… and he finally recognized it now. It wasn’t a song. There were no words. It was the sound… the sound of someone typing, someone frantically typing.

Wake jerked away, his heart about to burst inside him. It was dark outside, but the lights were on in the cabin. He wanted to close his eyes, try to get back to the dream, see if he could catch up with Alice.

“You okay, Al?”

Wake saw Barry seated on the bed opposite him. “I’m… I’m fine.”

“You snore, Al. Anybody ever tell you that?”

“Yeah.” Wake’s heart still pounded, his clothes felt soaked with sweat. “Alice used to tell me that.”

“Oh,” said Barry, suddenly downcast. “Sorry about that. I… I’ve been thinking.” He sneezed, wiped his nose. “I think you should call the police, let them meet the kidnapper. That’s what they’re paid to do.”

Wake checked the wound on his forehead in the mirror. It didn’t look too bad.

“I got a client, Al, former FBI agent,” said Barry. “He’s a lousy writer, but I could give him a call.”

Wake picked up the revolver on the nightstand, made sure it was loaded. “I’m handling it.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” said Barry, still sitting on the bed. “You got a knot on your head, a gun in your hand, and you’re talking crazy. Don’t get me wrong, Al, it’s a good story, but when you start confusing fiction with reality… you could be looking at real problems. Men-in-white-coats kind of problems.”

Wake checked his watch. It was after eleven. He should be leaving soon. At the Visitor Center, Rusty had told him that Lovers’ Peak was at the end of the nature trail. Keep your eyes on the radio antennae, Mr. Wake, it’s right below that. He wasn’t sure how long it was going to take to walk there in the dark, but he wanted to get there before the kidnapper. He started down the stairs.

“That’s it?” said Barry, jumping off the bed and following him down the stairs into the main room. “You’re not going to say anything?”

“There’s nothing to say.” Wake grabbed his jacket. “No hard feelings either. If I were you, I’d think I was nuts too.”

He could see that Barry was clearly scared for him, but there was nothing he could do to put his mind at ease. Nothing he could do to put his own mind at ease either. He had to just go forward. It was like writing a novel, one chapter at a time, without thinking about the obstacles or problems, without letting himself get distracted, without thinking of how it might end, without wondering if the good guys won or the good guys lost, because if you thought about all those things you’d be overwhelmed. No, like writing a book, the only way to get Alice back was to just move forward. “I’m doing what I have to do, that’s all.”

“It doesn’t matter what anybody says to you, does it?” Barry sneezed. “Alan Wake is going to do exactly what Alan Wake wants.”

“I don’t have a choice, Barry. Not if I want to find Alice.”

Barry slowly nodded his head. “I get it.” He suddenly dashed into the kitchen. “Let me make you a peanut butter sandwich before you go. I went back to the Visitor Center for supplies while you slept. You look like you haven’t eaten a thing in days.”

Wake watched Barry pull jars of peanut butter and jelly out of the refrigerator and set them on the counter. He grabbed a loaf of bread, pulled a knife out of a drawer. “If you’re going out to hunt dragons, you should at least do it on a full stomach, that’s what my mother always said.”

“I’m not hunting dragons, Barry.”

Barry slathered peanut butter on three pieces of bread, added glops of grape jelly. He piled it all together, then sliced it diagonally with the knife, just the way his mother used to.

“I haven’t had a triple-decker PBJ since I was in sixth grade,” said Wake, starting in on one half of the sandwich. “Good,” he said, chewing noisily. He was ravenous. “Very good.”

Barry poured him a glass of milk. “Drink this before your mouth sticks together. I don’t want to have to Heimlich you.”

“I don’t think that works with peanut butter.” Wake finished the PBJ, licked his fingers clean. “Don’t look so upset. I’m going to be fine.”

“Why should I be upset?” said Barry, voice rising. “You’re my best friend, Al, and, at best, you’ve got some kind of concussion, and you’re hiking off into the night to meet with a man who may have kidnapped your wife. At worst, you’re meeting a kidnapper by yourself, no cops, no backup, while dodging maniacs swinging axes at your head. That about sum things up?”

Wake hefted the revolver. “You forgot the part about me being armed and dangerous.”

“I talked to your buddy, Rusty the Ranger, when I went back to the lodge,” said Barry. “He said some campers have gone missing in the last couple days. He tell you that?”

“No, he didn’t tell me.” Wake felt a lump of ice form inside him, the cold spreading. He tucked extra ammunition in his jacket. Extra batteries for the flashlight too. “Wouldn’t matter if he did.”

“He said there’s places back in the woods where the locals have set out bear traps,” said Barry. “They’re not supposed to, but they do it anyway. The traps are hard to see in the daylight, almost impossible to see at night. He thinks that may be what happened to the missing campers.”

Wake thought of the hunter last night in the logging camp, the man writhing in the sawdust as he begged Stucky for his life. He remembered the sound of the ax chunking into the hunter’s chest, and Stucky’s gleeful voice as he did it, jabbering on about cabin deposits and no cancellations. There had been ravens in the trees, screeching as Stucky chopped away at the hunter, as though urging him on. Not a half hour later and the hunter was coming after Wake, his chest erupting as he tried to kill him, the hunter a Taken now, just like Stucky. “I hope that’s what happened to them.”

“You hope so?”

“I’d rather they were holed up with a broken leg than the alternative.”

“Those Taken guys?”

Wake nodded.

Barry sneezed.

“Bless you,” said Wake.

“This place is trying to kill me.” Barry noisily blew his nose. “I got such a migraine you wouldn’t believe.” He rubbed his temples. “I bet there’s mold in here, spores, poison ivy, God knows what.”

“Take care of yourself.” Wake started to leave, the wood floor creaking with every step. “Make sure you keep the door locked and the lights on.”

Barry picked up his red parka from the sofa. “Not so fast, kemosabe, I’ve decided to come with you.”

“You’re staying here.”

“What? Now you’re telling me where I can go and can’t go?” blustered Barry. “I’m not scared of the woods, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“You scared of the woods? Heaven forbid.”

“I’m not,” insisted Barry. “I ride subways, pal, any time of the day or night. I get off at stops where the cops have to travel in pairs. I eat pushcart hotdogs, foot-longs too, with sauerkraut and piccalilli. I’m not scared of anything.”

“You’re a braver man than I am, but I need you to stay here,” Wake said quietly. “The kidnapper said if he saw anyone else with me that he’d kill Alice. Besides, if something happens to me… if I don’t come back, I need