Off the ground? My head swiveled rapidly, eyes darting left and right as I tried to figure out what the crap was going on. Was I still dreaming? How the hell did I get outside during my sleep? I knew I had been safely in my dorm room, and now I seemed to be … my eyes alighted on a series of warning signs which were scattered around a tall chain-link fence. Sweet love of the gods, I was halfway across town, outside the gated compound surrounding the Hive.
I blinked more than once, trying to wrap my head around what had happened. I looked down at myself to see I was still clothed. I was either losing my mind or something really serious was wrong. I used to sleepwalk when I was younger, but never got further than the living room. One thing I did know was that I needed to haul ass immediately. I could not be caught after curfew in this area. I’d pretty much be signing my own death warrant. I looked up at the moon high in the sky, and hugged my arms across my chest against the bite of the cold. September seemed to be up and down lately with cold. Tonight, with the rain, I could feel the iciness of winter around the corner.
I didn’t think, I just ran, my bare feet smashing against the gravel road, not even caring that they were getting all cut up. I was still in my sleep shirt, but that didn’t seem to be the most pressing issue right now. Somehow, despite my shock, my body knew what to do. I had never run so swiftly, but within moments I was out of the danger zone and back in familiar territory. I hadn’t consciously made the decision to head this way, but something drove me toward my family home. Toward my mom. Sometimes a girl just needs her mom, especially if she might possibly be losing her mind.
I turned onto my street, large trees lining it. I hadn’t grown up in the best neighborhood, but it was perfect, middle class suburbia, and I needed some normalcy. As I dashed up the steps to my front porch, I didn’t bother to contemplate on the fact that I’d just sprinted across town in under ten minutes. The trip should have taken me thirty at a brisk pace. I ran a shaky hand through my long, tangled hair, and tried to calm my frantic thoughts. My feet stung from my barefooted haul-ass run, and I saw smudges of bloody footprints dotting the porch.
My mom was a surgical nurse and worked a lot of shift hours. My muddled brain couldn’t quite remember what shift she was on right now, so instead of disturbing her I reached down and scrambled beneath the potted plant to find the hidden key. It clicked quietly in the lock and I let myself into the cool, familiar front hall and locked the door behind me.
Padding through the parlor, I ended up at the kitchen. Instinct drove me forward. I was so, so, thirsty. Opening up the single door fridge, I knew Mom would have plenty of goodness inside. She was the best cook around. But as I stared at the contents, not even the peach and pecan pie tempted me.
I grabbed a sports drink, wondering if I needed a kick of electrolytes. Flipping it open, I took a large gulp, but before I could swallow it I found myself spitting it all back out. It was disgusting. Tasted like chemicals and salt. I read the label in the dull light of the open fridge. Date was fine, so what the hell was wrong with it?
I sensed a presence just seconds before she spoke: “Charlie baby, what are you doing here?”
Spinning around, drink still clutched in my hands, I held back a sob and threw myself into my mom’s arms. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Words poured from me. I was all out of whack. My thoughts seemed to be going a million miles an hour, and yet I was barely comprehending the simplest of things.
I pulled back a little to stare at my mom. She was still young and beautiful, despite the fact she’d done double duty and raised me by herself. Truth was, I couldn’t have asked for a better parent. And I needed her calm mom words more than anything.
“What happened? Did you run here in your nightgown? Barefoot?” Her gaze roamed over me, the dim lighting enough for me to see concern in her dark brown eyes. We shared the same eye color and general build, but my mom was very blond and I had quite dark hair. Same as my father. Who I only knew from the two or three scattered photos of him around the place.
“Shit, I’m probably bleeding all over your kitchen floor.” I lifted my feet to inspect the cuts. My stomach dropped. No! They were pretty much healed. Just slight pink lines remained.
I couldn’t say anymore; the nausea and dizziness was starting to crowd in on me. Darkness pressed at the edge of my consciousness and weakness invaded my limbs.
“I’m so thirsty, Mom.” Those were not the words I intended to say. I was going to tell her that I’d had a dream and sleepwalked. But the thirst was driving me crazy. If I was so thirsty, why the hell did everything taste like shit?