He never finished.
The earth beneath our feet leapt. Everyone went tumbling as a groan echoed across the valley. Toby careened into the bench, opening a gash on his forehead. The others scrambled around like crabs, faces terrified as the ground shook like a living thing.
"Earthquake!" Chris shouted needlessly. His brother staggered over and threw an arm around him. I watched with sick fascination as a swing set shook off its moorings. There was an explosion somewhere up the block. Car alarms screamed as glass shattered all along Main Street. The lake roiled and hissed.
The vibrations stopped. I rose unsteadily, overwhelmed by all the alarms going off at once. The girls streaked over to where Derrick was examining Toby's cut. Jessica was crying, holding her elbow. Everyone else seemed okay.
"Yo, look at that!" Chris pointed to black smoke rising from the docks. "Is that coming from the marina?"
Mike shook his head, jarred into actually speaking. "Mechanic's shop next door. Oil drums, I bet."
Toby winced as Derrick pressed a sock to his scalp. "They better get on that blaze, or the whole waterfront might go up," Derrick said. As if in response, a siren joined the clamor.
"Busy week for those guys," Chris joked. Ethan glared at him, and the smile vanished.
Commotion down the block. People had gathered in front of a broken store window, their backs to us as they mobbed something we couldn't see. Cries erupted from the group. A woman spun away, hands covering her mouth.
"What's going on?" I whispered.
"I don't want to know," Jessica whined, hugging her body tight. I was surprised to discover I felt the same. I was past my stress limit. I wanted to go home and hide in my room.
Ethan began jogging across the square. After a slight hesitation, we all followed. Approaching the storefront, I swallowed hard, certain we were about to see something horrible. A crushed body, or some poor sap impaled by a lamppost.
But it was much, much worse.
Valley Home Entertainment Specialists is a tech shop owned by Charlie Bell's mom. Half the display screens were busted, but a 65-incher still worked, tuned to CNN. Onscreen, in vivid 4K OLED, was a nightmare.
"The devastation in Portland defies comprehension," a shaky voice said as a helicopter flyover filled the screen. "Officials believe the epicenter of the massive 9.2 earthquake was twenty miles offshore, along the long-dormant Cascadia subduction zone. As you can see, very little of downtown remains standing. After the initial destruction, a tsunami swept in from the coast, washing all the way to the I – 5 corridor. It's already being called the worst natural disaster in the history of North America. Fires are burning in the neighborhoods of-"
A second voice broke in as the feed cut to another city. Seattle, people whispered, their faces slack with shock. A helicopter zoomed in on the remains of the Space Needle, which had snapped in half like a chopstick and lay in ruins on the streets below. The rest of the city looked like a war zone. In hushed tones, the narrator reported similar scenes of destruction in Tacoma, Vancouver, Astoria, and a dozen other places, with tens of thousands feared dead, drowned, or trapped beneath the rubble.
"Holy crap." Toby was staring, wide-eyed. "The Pacific Northwest just got smashed."
I didn't want to see any more. A familiar panic was rising in my chest, squeezing the breath from my lungs. I slipped to the back of the crowd, then ducked down an alley toward the lakefront.
Smoke billowed along the wharf as the fire department battled near the marina. Thankfully the fire appeared small, and the millions of gallons of available lake water gave our volunteers the upper hand. I walked west for three blocks, then turned back uphill, planning to bolt home. I'd lock myself in, and if the others came by, I'd pretend I wasn't there.
Instead, I stopped dead.
Stared.
Halfway up the alley, Principal Myers was huddled with Sheriff Watson. The two were arguing heatedly, Myers pounding a fist into his open palm as he made some point. Then a shift in the breeze cleared more smoke, revealing several others.
Dr. Lowell was standing beside Myers, frowning with his arms crossed. Beside him loomed a tall, thin-faced man in a bow tie-Dr. Fanelli, the town's other psychiatrist. The two shrinks were rumored to dislike each other, and I'd never seen them together before.
Myers cut off abruptly as another man raised a hand. Though his back was to me, I could tell he was wearing a military uniform. The others listened with varying degrees of impatience as he spoke. When he finished, everyone started talking at once.
My instincts warned me not to be seen. I was witnessing a conference no one was supposed to know about, I was sure. So I slunk back to the corner and took cover, then peeked around again. Min's warning echoed in my head.
A cell rang. The officer removed a phone from his vest, listened a moment, then hung up. "We need to wait. He's coming now."
I stared, torn between curiosity and a deep impulse to leave and forget the whole thing. Why get involved in something I could avoid? I hesitated, unable to get my feet to move. Then another man joined the circle, and my world collapsed around me.
Polished boots. Silver sunglasses.
Black Suit strode from the whirling smoke, a nightmare come to life.
He was here. He was real. He was speaking to my goddamn psychiatrist.
I'm not asleep. God help me, but I'm really not this time.
I collapsed to the curb, then scrambled out of sight. My stomach heaved and I vomited on the pavement. Dazed, I rolled over and lay there, staring up at the char-stained sky.
I was never asleep. Not for any of it.
Everything Lowell told me was a lie.
Then another thought exploded in my head.
GET OUT OF HERE NOW OR HE'LL KILL YOU AGAIN.
Staggering to my feet, I ran as fast as I could.
20
PROJECT NEMESIS
File: INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT: NOAH C. LIVINGSTON ("NL")
Date: MARCH 30, 2017
Specialist: DR. GERALD LOWELL ("GL")
Subject: TEST PATIENT B, BETA RUN, SESSION 15-C4
NL: I was so desperate not to fall asleep.
GL: Understandable, given your previous dreams. I know you don't like talking about your twelfth birthday, Noah, but we must treat that dream the same as the others.
NL: [SUBJECT SHUDDERS] It was so . . . surreal. [PAUSE] I was home, but not alone. Carol was there, my father's third wife. She was downstairs the whole time. At least, I think she was. How could I have gotten past her in my sleep? How did I dry off, or get my clothes on?
GL: Take me through what you remember.
NL: [SUBJECT SIGHS] I was upstairs, watching movies. All I could think about was bedtime. Being alone in my room, with the dream coming. I planned to stay awake all night. It was already dark out, but not late, maybe an hour past dinner.
GL: Your father?
NL: Working. The new housekeeper was in her room. I thought Carol was downstairs watching Real Housewives.
GL: How did you feel about Carol?
NL: About her? I felt nothing, really. She was my dad's third wife after Mom died. I was numb to the process by then. Carol was just a lady living in my house.
GL: I see. Please continue.
NL: For some reason, I decided to take a bath. [SUBJECT SHAKES HEAD] So, so stupid. Of course I passed out. That's what baths do to you.
GL: Do you remember falling asleep?
NL: [SUBJECT SHAKES HEAD] I closed my eyes a few times, but thought I stayed awake. I had music blaring and all the lights on. Obviously I didn't, because suddenly I was looking up and . . . and . . . he was there. In the bathroom. Standing over the tub, with no place for me to run.
GL: You knew by then that the man wasn't real. How did you react?
NL: I squeezed my eyes shut. Told myself I was dreaming. But when I opened them again, he was still there. I remember his sunglasses fogging in the steam. The damn black suit. Nothing different about him, not a single detail.
GL: What did you do next?
NL: Nothing. I . . . I just sat there. I didn't move. Or scream, or run, or fight back. [SUBJECT PAUSES] I knew he was there to kill me, but I just waited for it. I made it easy for him.
GL: It's okay, Noah. Remember, the experience wasn't real.
NL: It felt real, okay!?
GL: Yes it did, and does. I know that. Would you like to stop for a minute?
NL: [SUBJECT LAUGHS HARSHLY] Not much else to tell. Something dropped from his sleeve into his hand. A black metal rod. He stuck one end in the water and pressed a button. Who knows how many volts I dreamed up? Enough to kill me fast! I guess I should thank myself for that.
GL: Anything else?
NL: I might've yelled for Carol at the last minute. Didn't matter, though. Only difference this time was, everything went white instead of black. Something new for your notes.
GL: Does it bother you that I record details? I hope you know by now what I seek to accomplish by reviewing these dreams now that you've reached adolescence.
NL: [SUBJECT WAVES A HAND] I woke up in the cave. I was dry, with clean clothes on, so add sleep-getting-dressed to my subconscious skill set. But this time my father caught me sneaking in from the yard. Carol was crying, but she went upstairs when he started yelling. That was the first time I realized he knew I was crazy.
GL: I've never shared our conversations with him, Noah. Please believe me when I say that. I'm bound by ethics to never discuss what we talk about, not even with your father. When we first began treatment, I gave him a broad diagnosis and told him you and I needed to meet regularly in order to work on the underlying issues. He was made aware of your sleepwalking, but that was a safety concern I couldn't withhold from your legal guardian. But I haven't shared any details of your dreams. Not the murders. Not Black Suit. Not any of it.