Chapter 3 - A Bad Dream

When Valeria woke again, the room was dark.
She stared at the ceiling for several seconds.
Then reached blindly for her phone.
19:38.
“Oh.”
That was unfortunate.
She had slept for a little over four hours.
It felt like twenty minutes.
More importantly, it felt like she'd spent most of those twenty minutes cleaning a floor.
Valeria pushed herself upright.
Her back protested.
Her knees felt stiff.
She looked down at them.
“Seriously?”
The feeling disappeared after she stretched her legs.
Probably from sleeping strangely.
Her phone showed three messages.
One from her sister.
One from a number she didn't recognize.
One from Mara.
Dinner is in the kitchen.
Valeria stared at the message.
Then typed:
Is that an invitation or a threat?
The reply came almost immediately.
Yes.
Valeria sighed.
She considered going back to sleep.
Her stomach objected.

Mara was in the kitchen when Valeria arrived.
“You're awake.”
“Temporarily.”
Mara glanced at the clock.
“Four hours.”
“You're tracking me now?”
“I live here.”
“That doesn't answer the question.”
Mara opened the refrigerator.
“Your father went into town.”
Valeria stopped beside the counter.
“Oh.”
“He'll be back later.”
“Okay.”
“He asked if you wanted anything.”
Valeria opened a cupboard.
“What did you tell him?”
“That you were asleep.”
“Accurate.”
Mara set a covered plate on the counter.
Valeria looked at it.
Then at her.
“I can feed myself.”
“I know.”
“You don't look convinced.”
“I've known you for twelve years.”
“That isn't evidence.”
“It is an extensive dataset.”
Valeria lifted the cover.
Pasta.
Vegetables.
Something involving cheese.
Acceptable.
She picked up a fork.
Mara watched.
Valeria pointed it at her.
“Don't.”
“I haven't said anything.”
“You're thinking very loudly.”
Mara turned away.
Valeria ate standing at the counter.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Then Mara said, “Your father wasn't angry.”
Valeria concentrated on the pasta.
“I didn't ask.”
“No.”
Another bite.
“He was disappointed.”
Valeria looked at her.
“That's considerably worse.”
“Yes.”
“Thank you, Mara.”
“You're welcome.”
Valeria put the fork down.
“I was tired.”
“I know.”
Apparently that was all Mara had to say about it.
Somehow, that was easier.
Valeria finished half the plate before deciding she'd done enough to preserve herself for another day.
She put it in the refrigerator.
“I'm going upstairs.”
Mara turned.
“You've been awake for twenty minutes.”
“Twenty-three.”
“Valeria.”
“Good night.”
“It's eight o'clock.”
“Time is a social construct.”
“It really isn't.”
Valeria was already leaving.

She didn't fall asleep immediately.
That was unusual.
Valeria lay beneath the blanket with her phone resting against her chest.
She wasn't doing anything with it.
She had stopped scrolling several minutes ago.
Her father's chair downstairs kept appearing in her head.
I haven't seen you in three weeks.
She turned onto her side.
He'd be back later.
Maybe she'd still be awake.
Probably not.
She could send him a message.
That felt strangely formal.
She could go downstairs when he came home.
Assuming she heard him.
Valeria closed her eyes.
She really had wanted to go with him.
That was the annoying part.
If she simply hadn't wanted to spend time with her father, at least the problem would have made sense.
Instead, even imagining several hours outside had felt impossible.
Four hours of sleep hadn't fixed it.
Fourteen hadn't either.
Nothing ever did.
Valeria opened her eyes again.
The room remained dark.
She wondered what her father thought she did in here all day.
Then she realized the answer was obvious.
She slept.
Wonderful.
She rolled onto her other side.
Maybe tomorrow she'd stay awake longer.
The thought had barely finished before the room disappeared.

Someone was running.
That was new.
Valeria barely had time to understand what was happening before a branch struck her across the face.
Pain flashed across her cheek.
Her breath came in ragged bursts.
Her legs were moving far too quickly over uneven ground.
Trees rushed past on either side.
Dark trunks.
Wet leaves.
Night.
Valeria had absolutely no idea where she was.
Another branch snapped against her shoulder.
Ow.
This was considerably worse than the floor.
Her body kept running.
Not her body.
That realization arrived with surprising calm.
The hands pumping at the edges of her vision were broad.
Male, probably.
A dark sleeve had been torn almost to the elbow.
There was blood on it.
Valeria hoped that wasn't hers.
His.
Whatever.
Something crashed somewhere behind them.
The body stumbled.
Caught itself against a tree.
Kept moving.
Valeria wanted to turn around.
The head didn't.
Of course it didn't.
Fine.
Apparently tonight they were running through a forest.
A distant alarm sounded behind them.
Not a bell.
A siren.
Artificial.
Urgent.
The man swore.
Valeria hadn't decided to swear.
She was becoming used to that.
He reached beneath his coat and pulled something from a pocket.
A rectangular access badge swung briefly into view.
Valeria caught a photograph.
A name she couldn't read before it disappeared.
And beneath it, a symbol.
Three interlocking circles crossed by a vertical line.
The sight meant nothing to her.
The man kept running.
Behind them, somewhere beyond the trees, pale light flashed against the night sky.
Blue.
Then white.
Then darkness again.
The man looked back.
Finally.
Valeria wished he hadn't.
Through the trees stood a building.
Low.
Wide.
Mostly hidden by the slope.
White exterior lights burned above several doors. One flickered.
Another had gone completely dark.
Something moved near the entrance.
People.
At least three.
One was shouting.
Valeria couldn't make out the words.
Then a sharp crack split the night.
The man ducked instinctively.
A section of glass somewhere behind him shattered.
He ran harder.
Valeria's heart—or his—hammered painfully.
This was definitely not relaxing.
She had spent years dreaming about kitchens, gardens, rooftops and occasionally flying.
Nobody had ever shot at her before.
Another crack.
Closer.
The man veered away from the path.
His foot caught on a root.
The world tipped.
Ground slammed into them.
For a second there was only dirt, leaves and pain.
The man gasped.
Valeria had the distinct impression that one of his ribs had just become unhappy.
He pushed himself up.
His hand landed in mud.
Someone shouted behind him.
“Stop!”
The man did not stop.
Valeria agreed with this decision.
He scrambled upright and ran.
Something warm trickled down the side of his face.
The forest blurred.
His breathing became harsher.
The alarm grew quieter behind them.
Eventually the lights disappeared between the trees.
Still he ran.
Valeria had no idea who he was.
No idea what he was running from.
She only knew that he was terrified.
And she could feel it.
His heart hammered against his ribs. His lungs burned. Every breath came too fast, every step driven by the same desperate need to put more distance between himself and whatever was behind them.
Valeria wanted out.
For the first time in a very long while, she wanted a dream to end.
The ground dropped beneath his next step.
His foot came down on wet leaves and slid sideways.
There was no time to catch himself.
The world lurched.
A hand shot out.
Missed the nearest tree.
Then everything happened at once.
Ground.
A flash of stone.
Impact.
His head struck something hard enough to turn the entire world white.
For one impossible instant, Valeria felt it.
Not pain exactly.
Something deeper.
A violent jolt that seemed to pass through her skull and down her spine.
Then—
Nothing.

Valeria woke with a gasp.
She sat up so quickly that the room spun.
Darkness.
Her room.
Her bed.
She dragged in a breath.
Then another.
Her heart was hammering.
For several seconds, she didn't move.
She could still feel him running.
The desperate pull of air into his lungs.
Branches against his face.
The impact.
Valeria touched the side of her head.
Nothing.
No blood.
No pain.
Just damp hair stuck to her temple.
She wiped at it.
Sweat.
Her shirt clung uncomfortably to her back.
“What the fuck?”
Her voice sounded too loud in the dark.
Valeria reached for her phone.
She missed it the first time.
Her hand was shaking.
That bothered her almost as much as the dream.
She found the phone and turned on the screen.
02:17.
The light hurt her eyes.
Valeria lowered it.
Normally, waking from a dream was simple.
There was a moment of confusion.
Maybe a lingering image.
Sometimes an emotion that made no sense five minutes later.
Then it faded.
This wasn't fading.
She remembered the forest.
The badge.
The alarm.
The building through the trees.
The gunshots.
She remembered the man's panic as though it had been pressed directly into her chest.
And she remembered hitting the ground.
Valeria swallowed.
It had only been a dream.
Obviously.
A particularly unpleasant one, but still a dream.
She'd had nightmares before.
Everyone had nightmares.
She put the phone back down.
Then immediately picked it up again.
For some reason, turning off the screen felt like a bad idea.
Valeria sat against the headboard with the blanket pulled around her.
She was tired.
Of course she was tired.
She was always tired.
But for once, closing her eyes didn't feel particularly appealing.