Mike pats him on the shoulder. “It’s something, all right.”
Doc’s waiting for him at the end of the walkway.
He says, “I get the feeling you weren’t too happy to see me tonight.”
Mike says, “Don’t know what you mean. You’re always welcome, Doc. You know that.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Mike starts walking. Doc follows, of course. He lives on the next street past Mike. They go in the same direction.
“I’d never say anything,?
? Doc says, huffing a little as he catches up to Mike.
“About?”
“About what we talked about.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing, Mike. You’ve gotta take care of yourself, you know?”
“I am.”
“How many more events?”
It takes all Mike has to keep his face neutral. “None. I think it was probably just bad dreams.”
“That right? Bad dreams, you say.”
“Everyone has them.”
“Do they? People here in Amorea have bad dreams? That’d be the first I’ve heard of it.”
And that… well. That gives Mike pause. The only sounds around them are crickets chirping in the dark, and if it’s aliens, Mike thinks, or if it’s the Reds and their experiments, or if it’s just some old-fashioned Crazytown, then the attention to detail is astonishing. Because he can hear those crickets. He can see the way the grass on the lawns sways in the breeze. He can feel the chilly air around him, the air that smells like autumn.
“People have bad dreams,” he says slowly. “It’s how things are. It’s part of life.”
“So others dream,” Doc says, coming to stop in front of Mike. Not—okay, not quite blocking his way. He could go out into the street, after all (and just why do they have streets if they don’t drive #&*&&? #&*&&. #&*&&. He can’t do it. He can’t even make out the goddamn word). Doc’s just on the sidewalk in front of him. That’s it. “And they dream badly. And they tell you this?”
No. No they don’t. But they have to. They’re human. It’s what they—“Sure,” Mike says.
Doc frowns. “Mike.” Like he’s disappointed. “Could this just be another one of your delusions?”
There it is. There’s that swell of anger that’s becoming familiar. It’s oily and writhes in his chest and stomach. “It’s not—”
“Listen. Mike. We’re friends, right?”
No. No, they’re not. They know each other. That’s it. He says, “What do you want?”
Doc laughs. “I don’t want anything. I just want to make sure you’re happy. Are you happy here, Mike?”
He is, yes. He’s happy. He has Sean. He has the guys back at Happy’s house. He’s got his bookstore. Yes, he’s happy. He’s good. If only he’d stop seeing and hearing things that weren’t there, if only he’d stop having someone else’s memories, if only he’d never tried to step outside Amorea as it was. Aside from that, yes. Yeah. Sure.
He says, “Why do you care?”
Doc shrugs. “It’s my job. The well-being of this town and its people. I’m the caretaker, after all. It’s why I became a doctor.”