Available Darkness Season 1

fuck with you. Trust your gut. You’re on the right path.
    He obeyed the voice in his head, hoping it wasn’t just the voice of delusion.
    He had cautiously flown by a few squad cars, but none had taken notice of him. Yet. An exit sign overhead caught his attention, sending a sudden current between his temples.
    Get off here.
    Driving in the far left lane, John checked his rearview and began to merge right. The lane was clear and then…

    Darkness.
    He was in a dark room, bound and…
    Only it wasn’t him. He was plugged back into Abigail. He could see only through her eyes even as his hands felt the steering wheel slipping under the sweat from his fingers. Somewhere on the horizon of reality, a muffled horn blared.
    No!

    Panic froze John’s hands tight on the wheel as he drove blindly ahead, his eyes seeing Abigail’s world and his body bracing for the impact of a crash he couldn’t see coming. He managed to steer back right, praying nobody was in the lane he’d just merged from…

    He stared into a mirror, saw Abigail bound in a chair in a reddish room draped in haze. His heart quickened at her sight, salt stung his eyes….

    The car shook as a loud grinding sound echoed from some faraway reality. His hands blindly turned the wheel slightly, and he felt the car pull away from the unseen wall it had almost started to climb before straightening out. He tried to remember before the darkness of Abigail’s vision swallowed his own and how far the nearest car in front of him had been.
    He hoped his foot had kept steady on the accelerator, and that he had not, in his excitement, slammed down on the gas or else he was now rocketing blindly into an accident. He braced for impact from any direction as he eased slightly on the gas pedal in attempt to slow down and then stop the car on a busy highway. More horns, this time louder and closer…

    He saw movement in Abigail’s mirror ― someone drifting into her line of vision. A tingle of familiarity ran through John’s body as a bald man stepped into view.
    I know him.
    A flash of memory of the bald man flickered in John’s head so quickly that he could hardly make sense of it. All he knew was that he wanted to somehow rewind it, pause it, and examine it for clues.
    But it was gone.
    As was the view through Abigail’s eyes.

    Reality returned in an orchestra of sudden discord as horns blared and his rearview mirror swelled with the sight of a red sports car blazing toward him.
    John braced himself again.
    The sports car merged left at the last possible moment, flying by in a blur of angry red, sending a draft of wind which caused John’s car to swerve left. His car nearly ran into the barrier again before John corrected course and floored the gas pedal, the back of the car fishtailing briefly.
    Again in control, John glanced up at the quickly approaching exit sign.
    He checked to make sure no flashing lights were chasing him, then sped up and merged towards the exit.

    * *

    John had been rolling along the dark lonely mountain roads for nearly an hour, mired in an aimless search for any sign of Abigail, like an elusive cell phone signal in a wide dead spot.
    He knew she was close — or had been recently. He’d felt her out there, like you’d feel the ripples of water from someone swimming next to you. Except, he could also see through her eyes, feel her emotions, and even hear her thoughts at times.
    Whatever connected them had done so in a way which made her feel like a part of himself in a weird way.
    But the last time he’d felt her presence was nearing an hour ago. As the clock ticked away adding to the minutes he could no longer sense her, fear began to bubble forth concerns that she’d either been taken farther away — or was dead.
    His eyes scanned the dark rural stretch of nearly nothing, an uneven sampling of homes sprinkled along dusty dirt roads. It seemed to John like the sort of place where the people all knew one another, were likely to have guns for protection, and didn’t take kindly to strangers.
    The few people he’d seen outside their homes had quietly hurled suspicion as his car drifted by well below the speed limit. A little suspicion was inevitable, given the condition of his shot-up car, but he hoped to keep it dim enough that he wouldn’t prompt a call to the police. He’d been lucky to escape once. He didn’t want to tempt fate.
    Though his body had completely mended itself from the earlier gunshot, John wasn’t sure he