In Dreams

* * *

Sarah lingered on a photograph of a family vacation. Mom was sitting on a bolder, tying her shoelaces. Sarah was draped over her, hair covering half of Mom’s view. Dad was pulling her back from the side. Robyn, who’d been saying something, was in the middle of blinking and looked like a mix of drunk and asleep.

It was a ridiculous, blurry image at best, but it was also one of the few photos they had of the whole family for that trip.

A hiker was kind enough to take a photo of them on their way up to a something or other butte—she couldn’t remember the name—even if good intentions hadn’t translated into a good image. His other attempt had decapitated Robyn, if she remembered correctly.

She wished more than anything that she could go back to that moment. But wishing for the impossible was nothing but an exercise in futility.

Though there was a hint of annoyance, Mom was smiling brightly. And Dad was laughing. Sarah blinked rapidly, trying to stop her tears. She couldn’t remember his laugh.

How was that possible? How could she not remember?

A tear plopped down onto the back of her hand and she wiped it quickly, afraid it would get onto the pages.

What else was she going to forget?

The door opened without warning and Sarah rushed to wipe the tears from her eyes. She looked up, expecting, or maybe hoping, to see her sister or Pegasus, but it was a nurse.

The woman came into the room with barely a glance in her direction, and Sarah wiped her cheeks on her sleeve.

The nurse, whether she noticed it or not, ignored it. That suited Sarah just fine.

“How are you feeling today?” the nurse asked without averting her attention from her tray.

“Meh,” Sarah replied. She felt as if she’d been trying to get away with fewer syllables each time. Maybe Robyn was right. She might actually be a handful.

The nurse set down her tray, containing a couple of syringes and tubes, onto the table. When she started putting on her gloves, Sarah closed the albums and set them aside.

It was obvious the nurse was expecting to poke her with a needle regardless of her opinion on the matter.

Sarah was sure the nurses had this private game going on between them where they kept trying to get their way without having to tell her anything. She imagined the winner would be whoever drew the most blood within the shortest timeframe while saying the least amount of words.

To make her intentions clear, Sarah slid further down in her seat and tucked her arm closer to her side when the woman came towards her with the syringe.

“What’s going on?” Sarah asked.

“Doctor Brown wants to update your records before we forward your files to the outside.”

Well, this nurse wasn’t going for the prize then.

Sarah resisted the urge to protest. The nurse wouldn’t have a say in the matter, much like her. Sarah relented with a sigh, offering the woman her right arm.

“Do you know if Griffon’s team is back yet?”

The nurse obviously hesitated. Was she surprised Sarah even knew which team her sister was on?

The nurse didn’t look like she was going to say anything. Sarah felt the prick of the needle and that thin accompanying pain.

Sarah looked away as the little vials filled with her blood. It didn’t take as long as last time to get both done.

“We’re expecting them within the next hour.” She offered Sarah a friendly smile. “You’ll be glad to see your sister, won’t you?”

“Yeah, it will be go—”

An alarm sounded, overtaking her words. Sarah had heard that alarm once before. Pegasus said it meant there was a medical emergency.

The nurse ran out before Sarah could utter a word, blood tubes and syringes stuffed into her lab coat while the tray was left abandoned.

Sarah was on her feet before she noticed what she was doing, as if she too had been caught in the momentum created by the desperate sound. She reached out for the closing door, grabbing the doorknob in time to stop it from shutting and locking.

A breath, two breaths. She then opened the door and peeked outside. The nurse had already reached the stairs—she was fast.

Sarah stood there, clutching the door frame, staring out at the empty corridor as the sound continued. She searched for the cameras she knew were there, but they had to be embedded in the lights or something because she couldn’t find any trace of them.

Looking up, she waited for a reply to her silent question. She wanted to know what she should do. The sound continued as if calling to her.

No answer came, though she was sure if it had, the reply would have been to go back into her room.

The alarm was overwhelming her senses, making her feel like someone was screaming inside her head and driving a screwdriver through her forehead at the same time.

It also reminded her, in no uncertain way, that her fears had been right all along. Something was wrong.

It might not have anything to do with her, but sitting in that room without knowing would be agonizing. Leaving a sandal wedged in the doorway to keep it from closing and locking her out, she took the first bold step into the hallway.

Then she hesitated.

What was she doing?

This medical emergency could have nothing to do with Robyn. The nurse said Griffon’s team wasn’t expected back for another hour or so.

Was she really going to charge off like an idiot because of a bad feeling?

She clenched and unclenched her fists, took another step forward, stopped again.

Letting out a slow breath she hoped would be calming, she retreated to the room, careful to leave the sandal in place.

Sarah called up Pegasus on the com, but there was no answer. She tried more than once, though she wasn’t certain how many times. Her fingers were moving on automatic at some point. Every time, she hoped she’d hear his voice. She wished it so hard, she could almost make herself imagine hearing him say Robyn was okay. And she needed to hear him say it. Because of the fear… And the blood on the wall.

When she thought of it, she glanced at the wall and mirror. There was nothing there to see.

Giving up on calling Pegasus, she slipped out of the room again and started towards the stairs, following the path the nurse had taken. Fear, manifesting as a chill down her spine, pulled her further along.

Everything around her took the form of a nightmare. Her footsteps sounded dulled in her ears. The walls felt like they were closing in. Only the cold tiles against her bare foot felt real enough.

Each footstep led her slowly forward, though she didn’t know where she was supposed to go.

The alarm had stopped, but she wasn’t sure how long the silence had been there for. Moving helped clear her mind of any thoughts; unfortunately, it seemed to clear most of everything.

Moving was just movement, and each step was just that… But the fear was still there, exactly where it’d been all along. Lying in waiting. The fear that something was wrong.

* * *

Sarah blinked, and the tears that had been pooling in her eyes streamed down her face. Frozen in place, she still looked at where the blood had been. It was long gone, as were the bodies, but she still couldn’t look away.

The fear evoked by the image remained fresh in her mind. As was the ensuing despair. She wasn’t sure it belonged solely to the nightmare.

Should she move? Or would it be better to not risk disturbing whatever fragile balance may be keeping her nightmares at bay?

Shots sounded again, and she flinched. Some were barely audible and others echoed around her like thundering blows. The sinking feeling twisted her insides.

“Not again… please.” She thought she whispered, wasn’t sure.

It didn’t matter, the nightmare ignored her. The images came as well, as did more tears, neither ceasing to torment her upon her will.

There was blood on the wall, and she was covered in it as well. Lying on the ground, bleeding, as shouts crowded the world around her.

Sarah forced herself to close her eyes. How many times must she see it before it would leave her alone? Before she believed it to be real—before it became real?