MirrorWorld

Stand the fuck up!

I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking my head back and forth. “No!” When I open them again, the sky is blue, and the Dread are gone. I’m safe.

But still afraid.

I roll onto my stomach, forehead resting on my folded arms. I’ve won, and yet I feel like a frail creature that has lost everything. Where do feelings like this come from? How can my mind conjure such torturous emotions having never experienced them before?

Because it has.

I just can’t remember them.

I have lost everything. A wife. A son. Thirtysomething years of memory.

None of those things were created by the Dread. They simply drew to the surface what existed, no matter how well hidden by my lack of memory, and magnified it. The realization does me no good.

I can’t remember what I’ve lost. Not really. But there is nothing in my life, absolutely nothing, that can combat this sorrow. No love. No real friends. And just this one, hollow victory, if you can even call it that.

I’m done, I think, and close my eyes. With a final spasm, my tired mind and even more exhausted body quits, and I slip into merciful sleep.





40.

I wake up screaming. The sound cracks my raw throat, combining with the exquisite pain that comes from sitting up too quickly. My body is beaten and bruised.

Something brushes against my forearm. Squeezes. I don’t so much flinch from the touch as catapult. Arms flailing, I reel away, spiraling out of bed and onto the hard floor. An IV needle tears from my arm. The floor punishes me for the clumsy descent. But I barely notice as I scramble backward across the floor, still running from that touch.

My head hits the door. Then my back. My legs continue to pump, but there’s nowhere left to go.

Through my still-screaming voice I hear a name. It’s being shouted at me. Slowly, it sinks in.

“Josef!”

My eyes snap up to the sound of the voice.

Blue eyes stare back at me. They have an immediate calming effect. My voice falls silent, but my legs are rigid, pressing me against the door.

“Josef,” the voice says, gently. “It’s me. It’s Jess.”

Jess?

“Winters,” she says.

My eyes wander. Her blond hair is a mess. Her face is partially covered by a bandage. “I know you,” I say.

She crouches in front of me, smiles, and puts her soft hand on my cheek. “Better than you remember.”

As she strokes the side of my face, I close my eyes. Memories and tears surface, none of them pleasant. I can feel the Dread mole, projecting fear upon me, crawling through my mind. I put a hand behind my head. There’s a bandage taped in place.

“You’re okay now. You’re safe.” Her voice is calm and soothing. “We haven’t detected any Dread activity in the region since—”

“They’re all dead. I think. The whole colony.”

She says nothing. Just keeps rubbing my cheek. The repetitive caress calms me, my head sagging a little farther with each downward stroke. I take a long breath and let it out slowly.

“Can I take your pulse?” she asks.

I nod.

She takes my left hand in hers and places two fingers on my wrist. The touch is gentle.

Twenty seconds later, she says, “Good,” and lifts her fingers away, but my hand stays in hers. “Can I ask you some questions?”

“You’re here as my psychologist, then?”

“You’re still direct,” she says.

“Habit.”

“Then…”

“You’re wondering if I’m afraid.”

“Yes.”

I look her in the eyes but have trouble not looking away. Her gaze is intense. “Do I look afraid?”

Sadness sweeps over her face. “Very.”

“There’s your answer.”

“How?” she asks.

I put my hand on the bandage at the back of my head. “They got inside my head. Fixed what was broken.”

“Allowing you to be broken, but why not just kill you?”

“They weren’t done with me, but I escaped. I think they were trying to understand what made me fearless. Apparently, they figured it out.”

She slips her hand out from under mine and stands up. “I’m sorry, Josef.”

She heads for a counter, opens a folder, and jots a few notes. “There are clothes in the bathroom if you would like to get dressed.”

I look down. I’m wearing a paper-thin gown. Again. The hospital garb once again matches the room. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was staying at Average Hospital USA.