The woman’s bobbing light shone on the trees surrounding her and then, when they gave way, to granite walls rising above her and rocks on the ground, with leaves of all colors clinging to them. She turned this way and that, at one point whirling around so fast she tripped and went down on one knee. Instantly, the man turned back and hurried to her. He helped her up and they consulted for a few minutes. He insisted she drink water, which she did, while he stood close to her. He gestured back the way they’d come, but she shook her head and gestured the way they were going. He nodded and resumed the hike, albeit reluctantly.
The climb seemed to be going steadily uphill. Twice, he turned, saying something, and she nodded and took drinks of water. He was keeping her hydrated. That meant the hike was a long one. She was a little more cautious, keeping the light on the ground, just ahead of where she was stepping, although after a few minutes, she couldn’t help herself and began to look around again, showing various views of the rocky formations. Just flashes as her light bobbed and weaved through the section they hiked.
Abruptly, the lens began to close. It hadn’t even gotten light. Stella wanted to shout that it wasn’t fair, but she forced herself to be aware in the dream. Not to be a passive observer, or a terrified one. For the first time, she tried changing the dream, maintaining it longer by staring at the lens only, trying to see if she was holding a camera and looking through it, silently cursing herself for not caring about photography. What was wrong with her when every other person in the world seemed obsessed with selfies?
She tried to study the lens from every angle, to see if she could see even a part of the camera itself. Was that a dial on it? A button of some sort? Did it look like a knob? She tried to study it so she would be able to sketch it accurately. The lens closed abruptly.
IN SPITE OF how composed she’d been, she heard that child’s voice very distinctly reverberating through her mind. She began to fight to get herself to the surface, to pull herself out of the nightmare.
Her heart beat too fast. Blood thundered in her ears. Her breath hitched, lungs burning raw, desperate for air. She woke fighting the sheets, kicking frantically to get them off her legs. She sat up abruptly and gulped in air.
Stella looked around her bedroom, her eyes a little wild, trying to take in everything familiar to anchor herself. Bailey was there, curled up in his bed across the room. Sam sat in a chair straight across from her, a silent sentry, looking strong and invincible. He had that expressionless mask, the one that was intimidating as hell. She’d never viewed him like that, and she knew that look was there to keep anyone from thinking they could harm her.
“Stella?” Sam’s voice was gentle, moving over her like a caress.
This was the first time she wasn’t sobbing hysterically or rocking back and forth. She had held the dream longer by just changing it slightly with her will. She had refused to view it as a nightmare, but more as a chance for her team to identify and catch the killer. To keep him from killing more victims.
“I think I’m okay, Sam,” she said. Her voice trembled and she wasn’t certain she was telling him the truth, but she wanted it to be the truth. She pushed back the damp hair tumbling around her face. Her hands were shaking.
Little beads of sweat had formed on her skin, running unattractively down her forehead and between her breasts. She had fought the sheets, but she hadn’t gone to sleep with a slew of blankets, knowing from experience what was coming. She wasn’t screaming. She wasn’t catatonic. She was thinking, her brain processing.
“You’re the strongest woman I know, Stella,” Sam said. Respect was in his voice. Admiration. “Of course, you’re okay. You’ve got this, sweetheart.”
Just knowing he believed in her was half the battle. She wasn’t alone in this fight. She had Sam and Zahra and even Raine if she needed to call on her. Raine would believe her and help in any way she could.
“Tell me what you saw while it’s fresh in your mind,” Sam encouraged.
She liked that he didn’t coddle her. There was no, Don’t think about it. He was all about, Get it out. Go over it a dozen times if you have to. Write it down. Draw it. That was Sam.
“It was dark. I couldn’t see much. They both wore headlamps. She kept moving hers around so I caught a few glimpses of the terrain, but not much. At the end, when the lens was shutting down, I did my best to force the dream to continue and I studied the lens. I think I can draw a couple of features I saw around it. I don’t know if that will help or not.”