by Indi Martin
Minutes passed, with no movement. Nathan’s vision fogged for a moment, his mental acuity flagging for a moment before snapping back. Suddenly sleepy, he opened his mouth to speak, but Melissa beat him to it.
“Hey Luke?” called Melissa. With nothing else to do, they all huddled by the open passenger side door. “I’m kinda tired and really cold. Let’s just go to bed.”
This seemed like a fantastic idea to Nathan. Warmth, blankets, and light. He blinked, wondering why they were standing outside in the cold, all huddled together. Nathan noticed a puzzled expression on everyone else’s face as well, and surmised they were wondering the same thing.
Luke nodded. “Sure thing.” Melissa jumped out of the van, and they started towards the house. Nathan and Danny followed behind, chatting nonchalantly.
⇼ ⇼ ⇼ ⇼ ⇼
Gaping, Chris blinked at his companions’ sudden carelessness. “The hell?” he said, but no one paid him any mind, so he raised his voice. “HEY! Where are you going?!”
All four of them turned back to look at him quizzically. “It’s cold,” said Daniel. “We’re going inside.”
“After what we saw?” Chris couldn’t believe it. “Melissa? You just want to… go back inside?”
She shrugged. “Sure. Why not?” Unbelievably to Chris, she shouldered up to Luke and giggled. “It’s warmer in bed.”
Chris blinked at her. Her face was still a streaked mess, her hair disheveled. “You were completely freaking out earlier. We packed up and decided to leave,” he spoke slowly and carefully, enunciating his words.
“I wouldn’t say freaking out,” she frowned at him. The others looked confused.
“You screamed at the top of your lungs and ran out here crying. I don’t know what else to call that,” he retorted. “Nathan, Danny, you saw the video. She did see something.”
“I don’t know what I saw,” she shrugged, grabbing Luke’s hand. “Let’s get inside, I am just freezing!”
“I couldn’t really tell what it was,” replied Danny, looking at Chris like he was the one acting irrationally. “And besides, she’s right, it’s fucking freezing.” He, too, turned his back to Chris and followed the couple inside.
“Stop! Seriously! We tried to leave and the van broke, and there was something in that video! You’re all nuts to want to go back in there!” yelled Chris, but to no avail. The three didn’t so much as flag their pace before they disappeared through the front door. Lights flickered on, and he saw their shadows passing by the window.
Nathan started to walk inside, but seemed indecisive.
“Nathan!” Chris ran up and grabbed his arm. “C’mon man, you know you saw something.”
Eyes slightly out of focus, Nathan furrowed his brow. “I don’t… what?” He shook his head as if to clear it.
Chris took it one step further and shook him by both shoulders. “Dude, c’mon. Nathan. You’ve been freaked out about this place since day one. Remember the rabbits? The electricity?” Chris stopped and looked toward the back of the house, thoughtful. The electricity, he repeated to himself, and the alarm bells in his head grew louder.
Nathan just kept blinking and flapping his mouth wordlessly, his large eyes appearing even wider in the dim light.
“Something’s wrong about all of this,” said Chris, more to himself than to his friend, who he still held in a deathgrip. He noticed this and eased up, raising one of his hands to his forehead. He suddenly had a massive headache. “Something’s wrong with you guys,” he amended. “It’s the house. It’s doing something.”
The creases in Nathan’s brow smoothed and he smiled. “The house is doing something?” he half-chuckled. “Now who’s acting weird?” His voice didn’t carry the weight of the words entirely, and he shook his head again and flapped his hand, as though waving off a gnat.
“You shouldn’t go back in there,” warned Chris, tugging at his beard nervously. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t like it. I don’t like the turnarounds. You guys wanted to leave, now, tonight. Nothing’s changed.”
Nathan nodded slowly, his eyes focusing on his friend’s face. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah.” He looked at the house, and he smiled again, his concerned features smoothing out into an impenetrable mask. “But it wasn’t a big deal or anything. It can wait til the morning, and we can fix the van. Besides, man, it’s cold out here.” He shook off Chris’ grasp and walked toward the house.
For the first time in fifteen years, and the first time that didn’t involve a family death, Chris felt like crying. A wave of helplessness overwhelmed him as he saw Nathan disappear through the door and he shivered; it was cold, but more than that, he was afraid for them. For himself. He glanced back at the dark van, and the darker path beyond it. I can’t do anything out here, he thought. At least if I go inside, I can keep watch or something. I still remember. There’s something wrong. He thought briefly about showing them the video, making them watch it, but then considered that maybe they’d just forget again immediately. Melissa had damn near had a full nervous breakdown, and now she was acting like nothing had happened at all. Feeling defeated and on edge, he crept back towards the house, his senses heightened with adrenaline. I’ll keep watch, he decided. If they can’t be bothered to see sense, I’ll fucking keep them safe.
9
“You seem better this morning, Ms.Gina.”
Gina smiled at the familiar title and shook her head. “I told you, just Gina. No Ms.” She crossed the room briskly and slid into a large white leather chair. “I mean it, Victor. See? You don’t hear me calling you Mr. Victor. Because that…” she leaned in close and winked. “...sounds dumb,” she finished.
Victor looked affronted. “It is not dumb, it’s polite,” he answered, but his voice was soft. “So, no nightmares?”
“Nope!” she chirped happily, feeling well-rested for the first time in a week. “Well,” she amended, proceeding to tell him about the one dream she did remember, with the wolf-shadows and the glowing coin. She told it lightly, not wanting to alarm Victor into taking the coin away from her.
“I… see,” answered Victor slowly, brow furrowed.
“But it wasn’t really scary,” she said hurriedly. “I slept great the rest of the night.”
Victor nodded. “Well, that is good.” He scribbled something on a pad of paper; Gina couldn’t quite see what it was. “You will please keep me advised.” It was more of an order than a request.
“Yes, sir!” Gina gave a mock-salute and he frowned disapprovingly. She cleared her throat and continued. “Defense work today?”
“Absolutely,” he replied, setting his pad aside. “We will work very hard. I do not want you to keep that talisman longer than you need it, Ms…” he paused and took a deep breath, starting over. “Longer than you need it, Gina.”
She rewarded him with a grin and prepared herself for the lesson.
⇼ ⇼ ⇼ ⇼ ⇼
“And I’m just saying, maybe you should be a little careful.” Morgan sighed deeply and looked placidly across the table, meeting Harwood’s icy glare.
“I don’t see how it’s any of your business,” she snapped. “Victor’s been nothing but kind and very, very helpful. You don’t understand the situation.” She took a large bite out of her chicken sandwich, and chewed angrily, her freckles animating over her irritation-reddened cheeks.
“I might if you explained it to me,” he replied, gritting his teeth. Morgan didn’t know why talking to her turned into a trial as often as it did. He thought a nice, easy lunch meeting might be a simple thing, but it wasn’t turning out to be as simple as he had hoped. He decided to try a different tack. “Look, I don’t mind him. But Charlie…”
“Charlie.” She rolled her eyes. “You two have been awfully buddy-buddy lately. I thought you hated her.”
Ignoring the sidetrack, Morgan steamrolled forward. “Charlie is worried about you. And I’m definitely concerned.”
Harwood bit her lip and dropped her stare. “Well,
thank you for your concern,” she replied. “But I promise, I have it handled. I’m okay.”
Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Morgan continued. “You were a zombie all last week; you barely spoke. And that phone call,” she opened her mouth to jump in, but he spoke over her. “You were scared. You were, don’t deny it. I saw it in your face, your eyes. And then today and yesterday, you’re almost manically upbeat.” Well, when you’re not talking to me, he corrected himself mentally as her countenance was pinched into her irritated face again. “At least tell me what changed. Put my mind to rest.”
Harwood looked troubled for a moment, and Morgan saw her slide her hand back into her pocket, as she’d done several times already during their meal. He noted the compulsion with interest, but didn’t mention it aloud, letting her form her reply in silence. He concentrated on his chips, eating them in handfuls. Finally, he saw her shoulders sag a bit and guessed she was ready to do some talking.
“I was having these… nightmares, Morgan,” she started, and he noticed that she used his first name. She rarely did, and he always felt irrationally good when he heard her voice it. “They were awful. I can tell you about them, but my telling won’t do them justice.” He nodded; he understood the intensity of dreams. “They weren’t… normal dreams, either, at least Victor doesn’t think so.” She glanced up, almost shyly, when she said his name. “They’re something else.” She shuddered. “Anyway, he’s helping me deal with the nightmares, build up my defenses, you know, in my head. He thinks that will help.” She took another bite, as if to keep herself from saying more.
Morgan waited for her to continue, but she appeared to have nothing more to say on the matter. “So, you’re not having them anymore?” he asked.
She flicked her eyes to the side. “Well, not exactly. Not the same dreams.” She put down her sandwich and fingered something in her pocket again. “These aren’t nearly as bad, though, and I can actually get back to sleep. That’s worth anything,” she finished.
He noted her choice of words and frowned, deciding where to go next. “Because of your defenses?” he asked, guessing the answer was no. “You’re able to sleep because you can… fight off the dreams or whatever you do?”
“Mostly,” she answered, studying her next bite with more interest than it deserved. Morgan was disappointed; he had never known her to lie to him before. He felt more distance between them than he had felt since he’d arrived at the Unit, and his concern grew deeper.
Charlie was right, he thought. Something is wrong.
“Have you guys found our next mission yet?” asked Gina, meeting his eyes again. Something in them seemed to plead for him not to press the issue. Morgan weighed his options and licked his lips, which were suddenly very dry. He looked down at his food; what was left didn’t seem appetizing anymore.
“Not yet,” he replied, forcing himself to sound lighthearted. “And if I have to be locked in that research room with that woman for much longer…” he let the sentence trail off and smiled at her.
She grinned back at him, seemingly genuinely happier. He guessed it was because he had allowed the subject to drift. “Still not a fan, huh? She’ll grow on ya eventually, I’m sure. Tell her not to worry, I really am fine.” She clucked. “Charlie’s a worrier.”
Morgan raised an eyebrow. If Charlie were anything, a worrier wasn’t it. “Gina,” he started.
“Don’t,” she said, eyes resting back down on the last little bit of her sandwich. She balled it up in the wrapper. “Don’t… don’t worry about me. I mean it. I’m okay.” She smiled again, but it was tinged with what Morgan thought was sadness.
She feels the distance too, he thought with sudden clarity. It’s not just me.
“Thanks for lunch. This was nice,” she said. Gina stood to leave, but Morgan reached out and closed his fingers around her wrist. She turned around, her pretty mouth forming a perfect little ‘o’ of surprise.
“I’m here,” said Morgan, suddenly very unsure of what to say. He didn’t want to scare her away by pressing buttons she clearly didn’t want to be reminded of, but it was important to him to try to get his point across. He searched for the right words. “I care about you,” he managed, holding her stare evenly. “If ever you need to talk, I hope you know you can come to me.”
She seemed to search his face for something, but Morgan couldn’t tell if she found what she was looking for. She pursed her lips thoughtfully, but merely nodded. Morgan let his hand drop from her wrist, and watched as she walked out the cafe doors.
He let the minutes drift by in the utter silence of the empty room, gazing unfocused at the blank wall across the room. Nightmares that aren’t really dreams, he thought, mentally noting important points to the conversation for later. His mind flashed an image of Gina touching something in her pocket, and the oppressive sense of being so far away from someone he’d once spent almost all of his waking moments with. He sighed.
Morgan cleared the table and threw the remainder of his lunch away, reminding himself to thank Chaz for delivering lunch for them. Chaz seemed like a good kid, a freckly pumpkin-topped Unit member in his very early twenties, but Morgan hadn’t had the opportunity to spend much time with him yet. The poor kid seemed to be the gopher for the Unit whenever they were on base; he appeared to spend the majority of his time running errands to and from town for the various members. While groceries and necessities were mostly delivered to the base, it was nice to have things like fast food every once in a while.
He looked at his watch and groaned, starting the short walk back to the research room. Research didn’t suit him; he never was much for paperwork even on real cases. That was always Gina’s area; she was good at it, got it done quickly, and rarely complained in any real sense about the more menial duties of their caseload. He sighed again. He missed those days. Sure, the cases weren’t as exciting or bizarre, but at least they were more steady. Morgan had never handled boredom terribly well.
Morgan walked into the room to find Charlie already there, staring at a computer. Her head snapped up as he entered and she swiveled her chair around with an eager look. “How did it go?”
He shrugged. “Well enough, I think.” He was still running over the meeting in his mind, his thoughts snagging on Gina’s preoccupation with whatever was in her pocket. “More questions than answers.”
“Tell me exactly what she said,” pressed Charlie, her face lit up with intensity.
Morgan considered this request. “Not much I didn’t already know,” he side-stepped. He didn’t feel right about disclosing their meeting word for word, but it had been Charlie who had tipped him off to a potential issue in the first place. She deserved something, he decided. “She was having nightmares, bad ones, like the one that made her call me. I guess they were recurring. She says Victor is helping her overcome them, training up her defenses, she called it.” He paused, considering whether or not to mention the new pocket compulsion, and decided against it. He didn’t know what it was, if anything, yet. It would bear investigation on his own, then he would decide if it was something Charlie Parker needed to know. “There’s distance there, Charlie. That worries me more than anything. She felt it too, I could see it... It’s like she pulling away.”
Charlie frowned thoughtfully and placed her hand on his arm. “For her sake, don’t let her,” she half-whispered, and smiled softly. “I wish I’d had someone like you when I started here, to look after me.”
Her touch barely registered to Morgan, whose mind’s eye was full of Gina’s surprised face when he grabbed her by the wrist. “She said I don’t understand. She’s right, I don’t. I can’t really.” He focused on Charlie. “Maybe you should try to talk to her again. You’ve been through it; you’ll be able to understand her problems better than I ever will.”
Charlie’s smile faltered. “I don’t think so,” she said, sadly. “I don’t think understanding it, or even living through it, is as important as someone familiar. Someone who can really ground her.�
�� She patted his arm. “It has to be you.”
Meeting her eyes, he saw a pool of sadness, and covered her hand with his own. “What happened to you, Charlie?”
She stiffened and withdrew her hand, swiveling back to her screen abruptly. “Perhaps another time,” she said, but her voice had none of the rancor it used to.
Morgan nodded to himself, and turned to his own computer. He finally had some idea of what he was looking for, but it had little to do with finding their next mission. Dreams that are more than dreams, he thought to himself, and settled in for a long afternoon.
10
“Told you it’d be warmer,” she said as she snuggled up to Luke under the blankets.
Phantom concerns flitted about Luke’s mind like gnats, but the sudden connection of her naked skin against his eliminated everything else from his perception. Eyebrow raised, he ran a hand down her back to find nothing but soft, smooth, warm skin under his fingertips. He’d been sleeping on the couch every night so far, allowing her to keep the master bedroom to herself, so the sudden invitation to share the bed for the whole night was very welcome. She hadn’t minded fooling around a little, but had always drawn a very clear line that seemed to have dissipated into fog tonight. “It is warmer,” he agreed, feeling his heart pounding in his ears, an insistent drumming sound that threatened to drive him mad. “Very warm.” He pulled her flush with his body and paused just before a kiss, feeling her hot breath on his lips. She looked at him under heavy lids, waiting, a tiny smile playing on her lips.
Luke pressed forward, meeting her lips and her tongue behind them, electricity surging down his spine as he wriggled out of his pajama pants and kicked them to the side. Slipping his hand down to the small of her back, he flipped her easily onto her back, barely noticing her surprised squeak. He felt hot, too hot, his skin was on fire, and his mind was a blur of need. He traced his tongue over her body, not in a slow, sensual way, but like an animal sizing up his meal, little tastes before the gorging. Shoving her knees apart roughly, he paused for a moment to look at her face, vaguely realizing his was pinching one of her nipples and had otherwise entirely skipped any preludes or protection. That little voice of reason was silenced in the dull roar of another voice, a primitive, primeval one that commanded him forward. Her eyes were half-rolled back and her breaths were coming in short little gasps; prey, he thought, nonsensically, and heard himself snarl as he thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt. The girl’s eyes flew open and she opened her mouth as if to cry out; Luke covered her mouth with one hand and her throat with the other, pressing down with his weight as he drove into her again and again, each time revelling in the sensation of stabbing through her and her spastic twitches encircling him. He closed his eyes and let his entire consciousness be swallowed up, he was no longer human. He was a hammer, a piston, a blunt tool of destruction, and he found himself laughing low, a barely audible hissing that did nothing to mute the thick wet sounds and the bed’s near-comical squeaks of protest. Gritting his teeth and sucking in oxygen, he felt every muscle in his body tense as the familiar tingling chill vibrated through him and he felt release. At first, his mind was made of clouds and pinpricks of flame; then, a feeling of dread crept upon him as his mind cleared in one overpowering wave of realization. What the hell was that? he wondered, horrified with his actions. She’s never gonna let me have another chance after that. He opened his eyes with a wince, expecting a very angry Melissa.
