14: Nightmares Revisited

But there’s one more thing to be said, even so.
Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things—
trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself.
Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case,
the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones.

C.S. Lewis

“Wake up!” Peg yelled, knocking loudly on Tabitha and Bea’s door. “It’s family meeting time!”

“Seriously?” Bea reached for the clock on their nightstand as Tabby rubbed her eyes. “What kid in their right mind wakes adults up to stage a surprise parental lecture?”

“Hey, you don’t want me sneaking off and leaving you hanging, so I’m informing you before I go.”

“I’d get up if I were you.” Paul was on his way out of his and Andre’s room, fastening his PJ’s as Andre scrambled for his clothes. “After last night’s party, she hardly said a word for the rest of the night. She clearly has something big planned.”

“We just cleared the biggest hurdle to providing everyone a safe home,” Tabitha moaned, throwing off the covers. “Is now really the best time to stir up trouble? Can’t you just let good things continue a few days, before riling the hornet’s nest again?”

“I’ve started the coffee and put some frozen waffles in the toaster.” Peg marched down the hall, hollering over her shoulder. “You can wake up after I’m gone.”

“Somehow, I doubt anyone will,” Bea mumbled, pulling on her robe, all thoughts of brushing her hair forgotten.”

“How long do we have?” Tabitha called, searching for the outfit she’d set aside last night.

“Until I reach the bottom of the stairs, butter my waffle and eat,” Peg declared, marching down the steps.

“Damn, did we really need to adopt a tween, magical-drama queen?” Bea complained, heading out the door.

“Hey, wait up!” Tabitha said, one foot in her pants.

“We’ll update you on anything you miss,” Andre said, passing by the door on his way downstairs.

As the others entered the living room, straggling in with their clothes and hair disheveled, Peg sat on the couch, eagerly munching her waffle. “I’m almost done. I ain’t waitin’ long!”

“What’s up?” Paul asked, sitting Indian style across from her as Andre and Tabitha descended the stairs. “We can eat later. I’ll fill everyone else in anything they don’t catch.”

Peg held up a finger, as she wolfed down the rest of her second waffle.

“I’m pouring my coffee,” Bea called from the kitchen. “I can hear you from here. Tabs, I’m bringing you and Andre a cup, too.”

“You’d better pour me one as well,” Paul said. “I suspect, once she’s gone, we’re going to be sitting here discussing it, for a long time afterwards.”

“All right, we’re here,” Tabitha announced, still descending the steps. “What’s the damn emergency? Is this something dangerous?”

Bea entered, carrying a tray full of coffee cups. “I didn’t bother with cream or sugar, figuring everyone would prefer it black, like our mood.”

“I’m returning,” Peg asserted.

“To where?” Andre pressed, taking his and partaking of a healthy swig as he passed the other to Paul. “Georgia, the land of the dead, or somewhere else?”

“No, I’m visiting my worst nightmare. The alternate world where I’ve been in a coma for the past several weeks.”

“What’s this?” Tabby asked, entering the living room, all thoughts of drinks forgotten, despite Bea holding a cup out for her. “You never mentioned that.”

Peg sighed, rolling her eyes. “I’m going back to confront my greatest fears once and for all. If this whole universe, including each of you, is only an illusion—a dream I’ve been living since entering my coma—I want to resolve it now. One way or another.”

“Hold on,” Andre said, setting the coffee he’d already spilled to the side. “Give us a chance to process this. Why were you in a coma? And just how reliable is this alternate world’s information, ‘cause trust me, we’re all pretty real.”

“Yeah,” Tabitha said. “We’re not going anywhere, no matter what. We’ll be here when you get back. Rather than rushing off, you need to prepare so you can adapt to whatever you uncover.”

“If you run off, half-cocked,” Bea said, finally sitting, “you’re likely to get into more trouble.”

“It’s hard being in more danger than Frank assaulting me while unable to defend myself.” She took a breath, settling herself for a protracted explanation. “Apparently, whether you’re real or not doesn’t matter. I’m guessing, when repeatedly assaulted after entering the coma, I somehow crossed from my universe to this one, which I’ve tried to make my own. However, as much as I love it here, I now realize what’s still happening to me. Though I’m unable to stop it, they wouldn’t have shown me unless they hoped I could solve it.”

“So, who is ‘they’, and what are you planning?” Tabitha said.

“You can’t march into battle without a plan,” Andre cautioned. “If nothing else, at least let us brainstorm and figure out your best approach.”

“I’m not changing my plans,” Peg insisted, crossing her arms and jutting her lower lip out.

“No one’s suggesting you do. Instead, we want to ensure you’re properly armed for psychic warfare. If you can’t touch the enemy, you’ll need other approaches.”

“Fine! Let’s hear your suggestions, ‘cause I’ve been over them hundreds of times, and nothing ever pans out.”

Her challenge stopped everyone cold, as they glanced at one another, hoping for reasonable alternatives.

“Well, you’ll need a clear mind,” Tabitha urged. “You’re good at adapting, and like Paul, you’re a determined street fighter. If there is a way to survive, you’ll find it. But you have to center your thoughts.”

“Like hell!” Peg hissed, standing and flexing her fists, as if she were preparing to punch someone. “I’m mad as shit. If I calm down, releasing the anger keeping me sane, I’ll curl into a ball and cry, letting Frank win. No,” she maintained, vehemently shaking her head and staring at Tabitha and Andre. “I need to stay pissed, angry enough to kill whoever, is responsible for this.”

“Good for you,” Paul encouraged, slapping her on the back. “That’s the spirit. I could tell you’d been beaten down earlier and were reacting like damaged goods. Now, like before, you’re taking your life back. Whatever happens, remain focused, but look for other ways to win. Remember, an untouchable enemy is like someone bigger than you. You need a surprise move that’ll cut ‘em down to size!”

“I’m not sure you’re helping,” Bea murmured.

“No, having laid it out, I can see their perspectives,” Andre reflected. “Before, I was all for taking it slow and planning it carefully, but now’s the time to act. You can’t walk timidly into combat for your very soul. In war, it’s all or nothing, kill or be killed. The only middle ground is to hide, hoping someone else will save your ass while you wait to be picked off.”

In response, Paul looked at Peg. “When did you begin the prep work?”

Blushing, she glanced down. “About four a.m., when I visited Detective Wilks.”

“What does he have to do with this?” Tabitha asked.

“Hopefully nothing, but I can consult with him if the need arises.”

“I agree with Tabs,” Bea said. “How is a Georgia cop gonna help with a crime occurring in an alternate reality?”

Peg shrugged. “He likely can’t, but if I screw with the two realities, there’s no telling where I’ll end up.”

“She’s got a point,” Andre acknowledged, nodding. “So you asked him to check on you?”

“Not exactly,” she meekly mumbled. “Instead, I set it up so I could drop in on him unexpectedly, if it’s necessary afterwards.”

“I’m confused, too,” Tabitha said. “I’m not following this line of attack.”

“Don’t worry,” Paul said, turning Peg so she was facing him. “Are you ready?” She nodded. “No! I need to hear it,” he said, raising his voice. “ARE YOU READY?”

She leaned in, staring into his eyes and lowering her voice. “Sorry, we New Yorkers don’t yell, we get even!” With that she was gone, leaving the others glancing at each other, unsure how to process the information.

Peg appeared in the same alternate universe without needing to transition through the Separators’ world. She’d considered it for some time. While Trrilkr specified that Visitors can always reach their world from anyplace, she’d also said they could go anywhere. Combining what she’d learned traveling to their world with her familiarity with her destination, it was simple transitioning directly here. Since it took so long reaching the Separators, it appeared to reduce the transition time.

This time, the scene didn’t take time to form around her. Instead, it was like she was entering an actual place rather than a recreation. Each detail she’d observed before was nearly identical, though well over a week had passed. Still laying in a coma, looking paler than ever, she still required various devices to breathe and monitor her health.

She approached herself and leaned over to kiss her forehead. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I’ll figure out how to make everything right somehow, even if I have to take your place. Just ... don’t ask me what I’m planning. I’m making it up as I go.”

She walked around the bed, observing everything that had changed, before examining her chart again. The room was brighter as the curtains were opened wider and new sheets were on the bed—striped instead of little kittens. There were notations for each day, but they were buried under the top page. Since she couldn’t touch anything, she couldn’t lift the sheet, despite wasting several minutes fruitlessly blowing on it. Standing, she noted the door was open, and there were different nurses on duty.

She tried sitting beside herself, but fell through the bed—though she didn’t fall through the floor. Trying to drag the metal chair by the bed, her hand passed through it. Attempting to sit, she ended on her ass, which thankfully didn’t hurt. Giving up, she leaned against the wall, which supported her for some unknown reason. When it grew tiring, she slid down and sat on the floor and waited. She knew this would take time, having no clue how often her mother visited. Since they’d never had their fight, she assumed they came regularly. Yet after several weeks, she didn’t know how frequently it might be. Frank didn’t care whether she lived or died, so his opinion didn’t matter, though he definitely enjoyed abusing her at every opportunity. If nothing else, she could haunt the cafeteria or follow a cute resident around—if she could leave the room.

She waited for a long time, though unsure how long. There must be clock somewhere in the room, or at least in the hall. But knowing would only remind her how much longer it would take. So, she considered ways of enacting her revenge, though unable to imagine a single successful scenario. She certainly wasn’t enthused about watching herself being raped by the vile creep. It may be fun gouging his eyes out while he did it, though it wouldn’t have any effect.

After getting good and depressed, the rage she’d built earlier dissipated. Instead she contemplated her new life, and how she, Paul, Tabitha, Bea and the others would build a normal family. Of course, to do it legally, they’d need to ask her mother to turn over her rights to her only child. Here, it would be difficult. However, back in the world she’d come from, she couldn’t imagine her mother refusing, though she knew she’d fight them anyway. Her mother was still pissed. And once they asked, it wouldn’t take much for Frank to locate her and arrange for someone else to kidnap or kill her. No, that option wasn’t any more productive.

Without being appointed her official guardians, they could only pretend to be her parents. That meant she could never attend school. If stopped for walking on the street unaccompanied, she’d be sent back and her new family would be accused of kidnapping her. The fact it was the best thing for her wouldn’t matter. No, that line of thought wasn’t helpful either. She wished she’d brought a book. Since her clothes stayed on, she hoped she could read anything she carried with her, just not anything from this world. Gah! Thinking about such inane details was making her crazy. Nothing produced any positive results and just generated more questions.

Finally, she considered her veiled promise. Would she really trade places with herself? She realized she’d do it in a heartbeat, regardless of how terrifying it would be, if only she could save the helpless girl on the bed. Conceivably, taking over her life, she’d be angry enough to defend herself. Yet there was no guaranteeing she would actually wake, assuming exchanging lives was even possible. Again, she couldn’t conceive of any way of switching.

“Ah, Melinda and Frank,” the nurse said, smiling sadly from the hallway. Peg sat up, watching the door like a hawk searching for fleeing field mice. “I’m afraid your daughter isn’t doing any better, though she’s comfortable and stable. We’re hoping to determine how to challenge her, encouraging her to wake up, since the psychiatrist is convinced this is psychosomatic. If you can think of anything that may have triggered this, even if you’re unsure, it might help.”

“I know!” Peg shouted, waving her hand in the air like she had in school, but no one could hear her, including her.

“No, we’ve both wracked our brains, but nothing makes sense,” Melinda lamented. “She was such a happy, carefree child. She had everything to live for, and never had a problem with anyone.”

“That’ll show me to withhold my feelings,” Peg muttered. “If I’d only spoken up when it first happened, or the twentieth, Mom would at least know what to do.”

“We’ll try talking to her, as you suggested,” Frank said, which made Peg’s skin crawl.

“Yeah, you perving on me is sure to help! I wonder if I can visit the psych ward and convince some lunatic to attack him for me?” Yet the idea also seemed implausible, assuming she could go anywhere else. No, it was clear, whatever she needed was in this room somewhere. She just had to figure out what it was and how to use it. However, nothing came to mind.