10:13pm
"Goodnight, Peter," Lindsay said from the floor in the dark room. She and Peter had gone to bed at the same time, but Peter was still hooked up to the sensors.
"'Night Linds," he replied. He turned over, pulled the covers around his shoulders and fell asleep.
The next morning, Peter was the last one up. He looked at his watch and groaned. "Great. Noon." He got up, put on a his clothes and went from the side yard, where the mobile lab was stationed, into the house. He was greeted by the team, who had been awake for some time. "Hey everyone," he greeted them.
"No nightmare?" Lindsay asked, surprised.
"Nope. How'd you guess?"
"Well, if you had had the nightmare, then you would have been groggy, cranky, and up for a long time already..."
"Ha ha," he looked at her sarcastically. "So what tests are we gong to do today, Doc?" Peter asked Anton.
"I hadn't planned anything. It's mainly just sleep-pattern tests I need to do now, so today's basically for working out the facts," Anton informed him.
"As long as today isn't like yesterday..."
Everyone agreed readily.
"I guess I'll go into town, then."
"Sure. But take my truck, okay?" Matt asked.
"Why? I have my own."
"I have my reasons. Here. The keys." Matt tossed the set of keys across the room.
"Thanks. I think," Peter said while nonchalantly catching the keys in his left hand. "See you all later."
"Have fun," Claire called after him.
Peter headed out to the Expedition. He wondered why Matt insisted he take this truck and not his friend's, which he was allowed to use. Peter shrugged it off, thinking he must just be being nice.
He climbed into the truck and started the engine. Turning out of the driveway, he saw Claire running a radiation scanner over the walls of the house. He wondered briefly what she was doing and why they didn't want him to do his own job. Why didn't anyone tell him what they were doing, and why? He forgot about it by the time he got into the small town, where he went window-shopping.
He returned four hours later with two bags of stuff. No one was doing anything suspicious when he got back, but it didn't really matter, since he had completely forgotten about seeing Claire when he left.
"Hi everyone," he greeted them, coming through the door.
"Hi cheerful," Claire greeted him back. "What's in the bags?"
"Just some new shirts and stuff... nothing too interesting."
"Did you bring me anything?" Lindsay joined the conversation.
"Sure. You can have a shoebox."
"Oh, how will I ever repay you?" she crooned sarcastically.
"Get rid of these nightmares..."
"We're working on it. Be patient."
Peter went into the master bedroom to put the clothes away. He hung up one of the four shirts he had bought and turned to get the second off the bed, where he had lay the shirts down. He picked up the second shirt and was suddenly attacked by vivid images. They were not unlike the nightmare; images of his family being taken from him. He dropped the shirt hanger and fell to his knees on the floor. He pressed the heels of his hands to his temples to try and dispel the bright lights and screaming people. Letting out a small cry, he curled over his knees. He sat with his back against the side of the bed, still with his hands to his temples. The image of the light coming from the wall was so vivid it scared him. This was worse than all the other nightmare. But this time, he wasn't asleep.
Lindsay came into the room looking for Peter. She found him with his back against the bed, his elbows on his knees and his hands pressing on his temples, making small, pathetic cries. She ran over to him, very worried. He didn't seem to be hurt, which was good. She didn't want him committing suicide on her. But he sounded so pathetic, helpless. This was not good.
She put her hands on his and lifted his head. She looked into his wide-open eyes, and was terrified. He was looking through her, not seeing the anything in the room. She shook his head gently to get him out of the trance, and only succeeded after desperately calling his name. His eyes swam into focus, and he went limp. He was so frigid before, and now he collapsed into her arms. She helped him stand up, moved the shirts and boxes off the bed, and lay him down. She sat on the bed beside him, making sure he was awake.
"Peter, wake up. It was just a dream," she assured him.
"No. No, this was much worse than ever. This was not just a dream," he said in a shaky voice. "Not just a dream." |
