A Montau Nightmare

Sleep with one eye open

Gripping your pillow tight

Exit light

Enter night

Take my hand

We're off to Never Never-land

Enter Sandman, Lyrics by James Hetfield

JENNIFER

Can't... breathe!

I hurled myself upwards in bed, yanking in deep lungs full of air through my mouth. My sinuses and head felt twenty pounds heavier and pain was thundering through my skull. Strings of numbers raced through my consciousness, pushing away all attempts at rational thought. I clung to them, desperate for something familiar and stable. Sequences, formulae, bits of order in a sea of chaos.

Still half asleep, I was instinctively pushing and slapping at Finn's shoulder.

His arm closed around me, holding me to him tight. His own heartbeat was rapid, but as he held me, my pulse's manic rate slowed to meet his. My breath steadied. I reached my hands to my face, pawing at the sweat—

My palms came back dark. Not sweat. Blood.

The reality of my dream crashed into me. I'd seen it before, been there before. Felt them before...

"They're back. Finn, they're back!"

Searing pain, like a ripping and tearing of my mind.

Blackness.

* * * * *

FINN

The screeching tires of Shiv's Quadrifoglio was followed quickly by her voice as she barked at the guards.

"Open the fucking gate. Now!" My sister and brother-in-law arrived faster than any ambulance could have.

Moments later the beeping signaled the alarm going off and their steps echoed up the stairs. Our bedroom door burst open and Shiv quickly took in the sight. The phone I had called her with lay between my sheet-covered legs on the bed. I was cradling Jennifer, holding her upright. The lower half of her face was covered in blood and her pillow was a smear of dark red.

My sister, our rock, stood at the end of the bed, staring at Jen. "Oh my God. Oh my God."

"Shiv. Shiv! Look at me. I called Dr. Khalil. She'll meet you at the clinic. I can't carry her. I think... she was talking for a minute and then she collapsed." My voice cracked, and I was afraid I was going to lose it. "I... I think she had an aneurysm or something."

Siobhan called out, once again in her take-charge persona. "Tommy! Help." Her eyes darted to the window that overlooked the driveway and then shifted back towards the door. He came bounding into the room and she continued. "Carry Jen to my car. Then come back and stay here with William. Finn will follow and meet me at the clinic."

Under any other circumstances, he would have balked at Shiv's orders and made a joke. Now, he just picked up Jen and headed towards the stairs. The squealing of tires sounded again as I threw on some sweatpants and a shirt, grabbed my cane and slowly made my way down the treacherous stairs.

Tommy rushed passed me when I stepped off the stairs. He called over his shoulder. "Go. I'll stay with William. Do you want me to bring him down there?"

"No, absolutely not. He can't see her like this. I'll call you as soon as I can."

Stymied by my frailty, I made my way to the clinic as fast as I could. Test after test were performed, and I sat and waited. Updates saying nothing were delivered to me in calm, professional voices, and I sat and waited. Family arrived, expressed concern, brought me food and drink, and I sat and waited.

I was awakened by a soft hand and a softer voice. "Mr. Corrigan. Finn. You need to get up." Dr. Khalil was leaning over me, looking far more human than I'd seen her in the past. She was the Iron Lady of our medical community, but there were times when her humanity shone through. One time was when William was abducted. This was another.

"Finn, your back can't take you sleeping in the chair. We're bringing you a bed. We'll keep you right next to Mrs. Corrigan."

My tongue felt like it was two sizes too large and I wiped the sleep from my eyes. "Has she woken?"

"No, but there's been no relapse. She seems stable. Her EEG results are... odd. We're going to continue monitoring her. I have some of the best people in the world in on consults. She's getting the best care possible."

In spite of paying her salary and knowing her for years, I wasn't brave enough to call her by her first name. I took her hand. "I know, Doctor. Thank you."

It looked like it was killing her to have me touch her, but she nodded her head and patted me awkwardly on the shoulder. A new bed was rolled in and locked into place. I got in and lay down within arm's reach of my wife.

Rolling to my side, I reached out and brushed my knuckles on her cheek. Pushing some loose strands of her black hair back, I silently begged her to open the shockingly blue eyes that held so much life. I shook as my tears came. Slipping my arm down, taking her hand in mine, I willed my wife to awaken.

* * * * *

JENNIFER

Gargantuan concrete building blocks were assembled in Escher-esque constructs, looping back into themselves and bending reality. I stood on pavement stones the size of football fields and breathed in the essence of eternity. The air smelled ionized and felt charged with pregnant energy. There was a hint of synesthesia, as the air held aromatic hints of colors, and I could feel the thrumming sound that lifted from the stones.

This was the realm of my nightmares. I was here briefly years ago when I was in between 1968 and 2018. There was no dog with me this time. Alone, I felt like... me. Somehow, I was the essence of Jennifer here. It was as if all the meaningless dross was sloughed off and I was the platonic ideal of who I was supposed to be. There was no pain, no hunger, no worry. Just me and infinity.

And

Them

.

Their voices weren't indistinct whispers this time. I could hear them and understand them.

They

were fewer than before. That was oddly unsettling. They had seemed to be almost immortal and now, in a few years, their deaths were noticeable. The

Parasites

were all communicating about

One

. No, that wasn't it. It was

The One

. Their communications slower, messages simpler, depth of meaning growing shallow. They grew dull. They were... dying.

Unlike the last time I was here, the underlying awe didn't inspire dread. This was the center of creation and I knew that I risked madness if I looked too hard or too deep, but I felt I could somehow close in and keep my perspective narrow. Focus would maintain sanity. If my mind drifted, I started to see all the identities of myself that were possible. Flashing into my perception, one after the other; worn, vital, stunted, healthy, cynical, naïve, all versions of who I could have been. When I concentrated, however, I was back to myself.

Knowing what I was looking for rendered

them

visible. I don't know how or why, but it did.

They

looked just like

they

did before the showdown at Tesla's laboratory. Fat, translucent slugs, immense in size and floating through an inky, black velvet sky. The majority merely hovered, long dead, husks of what they once were, floating lifeless, like ghost ships on an ethereal sea surrounding the machinery of reality. The others were on their way to the same fate.

One, one stood out.

It

was immense. Gauging size should have been impossible here, but I knew that

it

was a leviathan of parasitic evil. This is what the others were speaking of. Hale, hearty, powerful and carrying the seeds of their kind.

It pushed, pried and pierced at...something. The blackness where it prodded was somehow less black. It was the veil barring it from our reality. Again, I didn't know how I was certain, but I was. I felt a pull towards that area. I was loosely tethered to that space. A sense of comfort, a sheltering, a beckoning feeling of home anchored me to whatever was behind that veil.

I knew what would happen if

it

crossed over. William. Finn. Siobhan. Dink and the memory of that other dog that didn't make it through the journey. A lifeless hulk sitting third from our sun. Everything gone. All I loved, consumed.

Flashes of memory ran through my mind. Finn holding my hand as contractions wracked my body. Seeing William as the nurse lifted him up. Lifting my eyes from the miracle laying on my breast to the loving eyes of my husband. I felt a surge of everything that comprised

me

, all of my love, all of my hate, all of my experiences.

"No. No. NOOOOOOOO!" Anger suffused me, ignited and grew to rage.

Its

attention pulled from what

it

was doing. I sensed shock, umbrage and disdain.

But... I had affected

it

. However insignificant, there was a pulling back. The slightest of tremors. The chatter of

its

kind grew in speed and intensity. Concern, an odd, sterile outrage, a cold anger and... fear?

The One

shifted its focus entirely to me, abandoning the pushing and prying. I sensed vast age. Age beyond reckoning. A part of me could see all of

it

and a part of

it

could see all of me.

It

took from me but left me whole. Absorbing what it is to be human. Emotions that are pure and hot.

I took from

it

but left

it

whole. Scope, patience, hunger, memory and an understanding of what true power is.

Pieces of me started to fall to the floor. I was being pushed out. What allowed me to be here was being broken down, disassembled. Holding onto who I was in my mind and soul and reaffirming what it was that made me who I was, I awoke in a bed in the clinic, Finn asleep, my hand in his.

* * * * *

FINN

She awakened on the third day of her time in the clinic. We took her home that evening. She seemed so normal that it scared me. They couldn't find the cause for what happened, and she felt hunky-dory, so everything was okay? That was complete bullshit. Something happened. Her pillow and our bed were stained with her blood. There was a cause, and just because we didn't know what that was, didn't mean we could stick our heads in the sand and ignore it.

Jennifer claimed that she was tired, but weary, the way people are after exhausting exercise, not the fatigued and weak feeling from illness. She said that she was fine, that her body had 'reset' itself, whatever that meant. Sometimes she dragged her outdated fifty-year-old hippie sensibilities into today's world and expected to be understood.

That Carlos Castaneda mystic stuff didn't stand up well to the test of time.

I could tell my wife was conflicted. She looked good. Healthier than before she went to the hospital, in fact. That persistent cough was gone and the deep cut on her leg from the nail on the pier seemed to have healed. It completely disappeared, actually. Jen also seemed mentally strong, if that's the right word. There was love in her eyes, and vitality, but there was also fear. That fear contrasted with her health and strength. I didn't bring it up.

Let her spend time with our son, fill her soul with his love. We could talk tomorrow.

That night, as we lay in bed, she rolled to her side and lifted her leg over my knees. Kissing my ear, moving down my jaw, she slipped her hand into my Jockeys. Kissing her, I gently took her wrist and pulled her hand back up.

"Let me just hold you tonight."

"Finn, I'm fine. Really, I'm better than I was last week. Cough is gone, I feel great."

"I know. I just want to hold you tonight, okay? I love you."

Her eyes betrayed her as they strayed down to my legs. I knew she was wondering if I was feeling up to it and that tore at me. I just couldn't do this tonight. Sixteen-hours ago she was practically in a coma. Cognitive dissonance was knocking at the door and I refused to answer.

We fell asleep with her spooning back into me.

The smell of bacon cooking pulled me from my dreams and, as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes I heard the quiet voices of my wife and son from the kitchen. After my morning rituals I joined them in time for a plate of pancakes shaped like Mickey Mouse. Jen was just pulling the cookie tray with the bacon out of the oven.

Taking the strips off the cooling rack, one by one, she spoke with her back to us. "William, that's enough syrup." He looked at me, both hands on the syrup, eyes wide and a frown of consternation on his cherubic face.

I tried not to laugh as I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know, kid. It's a mom thing. She has eyes in the back of her head."

Jen crumpled up the aluminum foil, tossed it in the garbage and brought over the plate of bacon. Like a ninja, the heretofore unseen Dink appeared table-side, tail wagging.

"Finn, your folks are coming over to spend some time with William this evening. We need to talk." She spoke softly, her words seemed to be tinged with fear and sadness.

"Okay, Hon." The few hours last night wouldn't be enough time with William for Jen. He was her oxygen. We'd spend the day together, just the three of us, and discuss what was scaring her that night. My feelings were a strange jumble of concern and a lightening of burdens now that I knew she would discuss what was on her mind.

Pete drove us to a miniature golf and bumper cars place where we spent the afternoon. We got our clubs and scorepads and it was William and Jennifer versus me. I had to take frequent breaks to sit and rest and had balance issues while swinging the club, but I was so damned tired of accommodating my injury that I didn't care.

I knew my wife, and what she was showing on the outside wasn't what she was feeling. There were some genuine, fleeting moments of happiness, such as when she teased William about his blue tongue after his shaved ice, but there was a deeper melancholy. She concentrated on the three of us, ignoring all the surrounding signs of life and happiness.

Pete's perpetual smile, the teenage girl who yelled "Yeet!" as she cut off her boyfriend in the bumper cars, the other parents with their children were all ignored as she spent the day focused on our family.

Jen was looking up at the sky again. I followed her gaze, confused. "Expecting rain, Hon?"

"Hmmm?" Jen was distracted. "Oh, no. Just..." She sort of trailed off at the end, holding William close to her hip.

By the end of the day, I was leaning heavily on the cane, and my legs felt like bags of wet cement, but we all had smiles, even Pete. He had spent the afternoon flirting with the woman who ran the bumper cars.

As we drove home, Jen asked Pete to take some backroads. It was almost unnatural to see her not pay attention to William and instead look at the scenery out the window. Every tree, every field, every winery caused her to squeeze my hand. I didn't understand, but squeezed her hand in return, offering my unspoken love and support.

We approached the home with the large field of Montauk Daisies and William leaned forward, struggling against his seat belt. "Pete! Pete! Stop!"

I could see Pete's smile in the rear-view mirror as he looked back at William. "You got it, boss."

He pulled over and we piled out. William started picking some of the flowers for my sister, his eponymous Aunt Daisy. Seeing the retired couple who owned the property looking at us from their large bay window, I waved. They had to be in their seventies, and stood there holding hands, waving back.

When William had first spied the field over a year ago, he had lost his mind. Now it was a weekly ritual for him to stop and get my sister's namesake flower. We had approached the couple asking if it was all right and offering to compensate them. They wouldn't take our money. We explained how important it was to us to allow him to do this and how close his relationship was to his aunt, but they refused compensation, offering free use of their field and bounty.

They loved seeing William and were happy to let us take what we wanted. We went back and forth on the issue until they told us to make a regular donation to the local animal shelter in the name of their long gone German short-haired pointer, Smiley. It was a little awkward as we already funded the shelter, so we agreed and instead made donations to animal rescue endeavors in other cities.

This couple was who I wanted Jen and me to be in fifty years. I turned and saw tears streaming down my wife's face. She watched William romp among the flowers, looked about at the wildlife and then glanced back at our son. I did my best to rush over to her, but my rushing was now laughable. It was closer to a frantic hobbling. Taking her in my arms, I pulled her close and felt her shake with great, wracking sobs.

She whispered in my ear. "It's all dying, Finn. It's all going to die."

* * * * *

JENNIFER

You have to pay attention for it to be an active presence in your consciousness, but life is everywhere. It sounds obvious to the point of being stupid, but it goes unnoticed. I saw it in my son. I felt it in the love from Finn. It was in the nervous banter and flirting between Pete and the woman with the go-carts. The trees, flowers, grape vines, laughter of children, lovers holding hands all stood in vibrant contrast to the world that would be if the

Parasite

forced its way to our reality.

As miniscule as my effort was, I had affected it. My anger and vehemence had an impact. There had to be a way to leverage that. To find some means of enhancing what I was capable of.

I had to go back.

Finn had walked William to the door to thank Mr. and Mrs. Shockey for letting him pick their daisies. He gave them some of the smooth stones he collected at the shoreline in our backyard and thought it a grand bargain. They managed to keep the amused smiles to a minimum as they thanked him and accepted the deal.

He always exchanged value for value. Well, whatever passed for value to a four-year-old. Finn impressed that virtue into our son. They had at least half a dozen of his drawings of Dink, a transparent plastic cup with his sand art and a freezer with frozen oatmeal raisin cookies he made with Finn. He tried to convince his father to give them the cabin cruiser, as that would make them even 'forever'. Finn nixed that.

My husband was paranoid about William becoming spoiled by our money and circumstance. Our son would never know privation and most of his struggles would be self-imposed. I saw the wisdom in Finn's concerns, but also knew William's heart. He was a good boy and would grow to be a good man.

But he'd only become that man if there was a world left for him to grow into that role in. And that was up to me.

Finn's parents were there by the time we arrived at the house. We had a light dinner and they busted out all the classic board games and made some popcorn. They had their own family night with William while Finn and I went down to the cabin cruiser, the first place we had made love.

Our dog met us at the pier with a tennis ball in his mouth. Bending over, I ruffled his ears and kissed his head. "Dink, go watch William." He pushed his huge head into my thigh and dropped the ball at my feet. "Dink. William." He looked at me, looked at the ball, looked at me again and ran back to the house.

By the time I got on the boat and sat down, Finn came up from the galley with two wine coolers. I almost complained about his selection before realizing that the bottles were easier to carry with his cane than two glasses of wine.

I took the offered drink. "Thanks."

Maneuvering to a nearby chair, he centered himself and slowly sat down. "Okay, Jen. I've waited most of a day. What's going on? Why is everything going to die?"

"All right. Okay." I tried to gather my thoughts. "This is going to sound weird, but please bear with me."

"Weird is relative and we're on the far side of that spectrum anyway. Just tell me."

"Okay. You remember when we were at Wardenclyffe and we saw those creatures that were trying to break into our universe or reality or whatever?"