***
I'm lying in bed, wide awake, listening to the breaths of everyone around me. Jonas' arm is stretched over my waist, heavy and reassuring. Through it, I can feel him breathing, soft and even. I focus on that arm, and try to keep from screaming. The arm. Jonas. Quiet. Warm. Everything is OK. So why do I want to scream? Why is this whirlwind building inside my chest? Then I'm remembering standing in the street, looking at the Sentry. Sucked into that moment. It walks toward me. I stand there. It keeps coming, like the car on the road the night we tried to leave the Outpost. I stand there. I can't seem to shove myself out of the way.
It walks around me. Like I'm nothing more than an object. Like it doesn't mean to kill me. Just walks around me, and moves on. I turn and watch it go. My insides are a violent scramble of emotion. I stand there, breathing heavily. Then, all at once, my feet free themselves, and I start running.
I gulp in air, now, holding it in, trying to be still. My throat is thick with pain, tears building behind my eyes. I shift sideways, a touch. Just enough to redirect myself. There's an empty spot next to me. With all of us in this bed, we should have moved over and taken up the room. But the empty spot is there. None of us could fill it.
I'm so tired. I may never sleep again. I clamp my eyes shut against the tears, but they leak out anyway. Pointless. I open my eyes and lie very still. I can hear each drop hit the mattress. Plunk. Plunk. Plunk. I count tears like others count sheep. Eventually it works. Eventually I fall asleep.
There are Sentries everywhere. Hundreds, maybe thousands of them. I'm on a street, sunken into the shade between tall buildings, and everywhere I look, there are Sentries. Slowly, their heads rotate toward me, their black mirrors glimmering. They leap into motion. There's no time to scream. I start running. I sprint down the street, dodging them. Every corner I turn reveals more. They join the chase. There is a metal army on my heels.
I turn another corner, thinking I'm going to collapse, and the street before me dead-ends. But there is a door. Rising into the sky above the door is a gleaming white tower. I run toward it, and somehow, in dream time, I have a moment to slowly reach out toward the knob.
Arms grab me from behind. I scream. A hand closes over my mouth. A warm, human hand.
"Shhh," says a voice, "It's OK. You're OK."
Darkness falls over me. I blink, trying to see. Everything in front of me is so black. I reach out and feel the cold metal of the door. A moment later I realize it's our door. Our house. I'm awake. I was dreaming.
Jonas lets me go, except for one hand that steadies my shoulder. "It's OK," he says softly. "Come back to bed."
I let out a long sigh, the tension draining from my body. I let him guide me toward the bed. I crawl in. He lies down beside me and places his arm over me. I lie there, and stare into darkness. I'm OK, I think. I'm OK. I try to focus on his arm, and not the whirlwind building inside me.