I should have told them sooner. No, I didn’t fall asleep with my tangs in last night. No, I didn’t do it on purpose. Yes, it was a very vivid dream. No, I don’t think I actually accessed the Q-net. ’Cause that would be impossible!
Unless I’m catatonic and still slumbering in Beau’s office? No, then I would have never “woken” from my adventures. I’d still be flying and there wouldn’t have been pain.
There’s much discussion that doesn’t involve me and I’m happy to lie there. I don’t protest when Dr. Edwards schedules a late-night brain scan, because I’d rather never wake up with that excruciating pain again.
Eventually the adults leave and I’m instructed to rest. Except that’s what got me in this mess in the first place.
I grab my mom’s arm in a panic. “Don’t let me fall asleep!”
She sits on the edge of my bed, taking my hand in both of hers. “You’re going to have to sleep eventually.”
And my body feels as if I’d spent the night sparring Elese. “What if it happens again? And I can’t…wake up?” While being trapped in the Q-net isn’t the worst thing, I’m not ready to leave the physical world. Niall’s kisses are worth remaining for.
Mom squeezes my hand. “I’ll stay with you. If it looks like you’re having another nightmare, I’ll wake you.”
“You have work—”
“Hush, nothing’s more important.”
Her truthful, heartfelt statement slams into me like a tidal wave. “Love you, too, Mom.”
Nightmare. I like that word. That explanation. And after my brain scan, Dr. Edwards is inclined to agree. My guardian lions (Mom, Dad, and Elese) stand watch for the next four nights and I’ve no more nightmares. All goes back to normal.
Sort of. I hesitate outside Beau’s office. I’m standing in the narrow room, staring at the monitors without really seeing them. Rubbing my temples to dispel a phantom headache, I create a number of excuses for why I shouldn’t be worming this afternoon. Fatigue, hunger, thirst, itchy limbs due to the healing cuts, no motivation, fear. That last one catches me off guard.
What exactly am I afraid of? Losing my mind? Not really. The pain? Maybe a little. That it wasn’t a nightmare? Bingo. Because if I did fly in the Q-net how did I get past Jarren’s blockade? I didn’t. Then why am I scared to find out otherwise? Actually, I’d be an idiot not to be terrified. All right then. With that settled, I channel my inner lion and join Beau.
He grunts. “About time. Thought I’d have to drag you in here.”
Did all the officers have super hearing? I plop down next to him. “What are we doing today?”
“First we need to fix the holes around the base’s camera feeds and ensure Jarren can’t access the ones in security again. Then I thought we’d try to worm through that cluster where the fake DES messages are coming from. We might be able to get through the blockade at that point.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“Don’t sound so surprised. I do this for a living, ya know.” Beau flashes me a bright smile.
We access the Q-net. And the tight band around my chest eases with relief. All is normal. Not the normal from before I died, but before the nightmare normal. And I can’t believe I’m defining what’s normal based on those two criteria.
Strengthening our protections, we rig an alarm on the camera feeds in security to alert Radcliff if Jarren tries to view the live feed again.
Beau follows the path of the bogus messages from DES. I keep close to him. Staying out of the main pathway, we worm just below it, paralleling the route. Then we reach the blockade and angle up to get a glimpse of the incoming missives. They come in quick bursts through a gap that slams shut as soon as they pass through. There’s no way to sneak out unless we know exactly when the next batch is going to come through.
Beau’s disappointment is tangible.
I search for something to cheer him up. Isn’t tomorrow payday? We can send a message to DES when our pay comes in tomorrow. Did you find out when the credits are deposited? The timing had to be precise.
I worked on that while you were recovering. Our pay dropped at the same time every thirty days except for the last one. It was delayed over two hours.
It’s being intercepted. I hoped Jarren allowed routine messages to automatically come through.
Yup, and no way to know when tomorrow’s will come in.
We needed