The question did beg: Would he even be able to touch Dan and the girl? Hurt them at all?
He didn’t know, but as he slowly approached--his perspective just shy of Dan’s filthy feet now--he began thinking of her again. Rachel, and how much he had loved her. He thought of how she used to call him a nerd. He had thought it was a term of endearment but now wondered how many times she had referred to him as a nerd to Dan, laughing contemptuously.
Dan had ruined his marriage, and his marriage had been his life. Rachel had been his life. Then on his way to confront Dan, his life had been taken. How long ago was that now? How long had he been lingering? Did it matter? Probably not.
There were more important things to think about. He had to be careful not to get pulled back into his pool of memories. Diligence of thought was a necessity now, and all that really mattered was the terrible death he was again picturing for the couple here whether he could make it happen or not.
He could smell their popcorn breath now. The young woman snored lightly.
His rage built, dead centered on making use of this chance and damn everything to a place worse than hell if he couldn’t. Whatever reason he was here, one surely would not be allowed this opportunity only to have it taken away.
The dead man was now close enough to see that it wasn’t Dan, after all, but he’d do.
As his face moved ever nearer the sleeping couple, he opened his mouth wide and began his battle-cry, a frenzied rampage of his darkest emotions.
The young man woke with a start, opening his eyes to the dark. The dead man’s shriek turned to maniacal laughter, so beautiful was this stranger’s frozen terror to him.