The Lucid - Season One: The Beginning Read online

  “No more orange juice, dad?” Charlie asked from across the table.

  Adam looked up at his oldest. “I thought water would be better.”

  Charlie nodded. “Okay.”

  No one else seemed to care.

  Adam paid particular attention to Sarah for the rest of the day. She hadn’t had any episodes the night before, but he knew that it was impossible to predict when they might arrive. He stayed by her side, monitoring her as she played on the computer as he read a book on the couch, struggling to stay focused on the words even as his mind raced with everything that was happening. In some ways it was easy to fool himself into a sort of calm. Everyone around him was so docile. No fighting or bickering. No signs of fear or anxiety. It could almost lure him into a sense of complacency. Almost.

  He’d found another water bottle from the truck that Kate had stowed under the back seat. The bottle was unopened, meaning it contained the same “contaminated” water that would help calm Sarah if she did have an episode. He kept the bottle close by, knowing that it would be the most helpful combatant against another episode.

  But no episodes came, and he watched as a slow transformation awakened his family.

  Sarah was the first to show signs of life. Her eyes grew wide with delight as she reached a new level in her game, and she even called to Adam to “come see” when she started the next.

  The twins reacted to the unadulterated water as well, starting to bicker late in the afternoon over something trivial involving a remote-controlled helicopter they’d found stashed in their closet.

  Kate, too, showed improvement, though her reaction to the chemical-free water was much more subtle. Adam noticed it when she plopped down onto the couch at dusk, having just finished heating up a soup on the stove, and curled up next to him.

  He looked down at her, her eyes flickering with the slightest twinge of light, and he smiled. She blinked once and the light disappeared, her eyes returning to their previously hollow state. She rose from the couch and mumbled something unintelligible, then resumed her work in the kitchen.

  Adam felt a pang of guilt, then regret, but his logical brain forced him to redirect his thoughts. I’m saving them.

  His family was returning to him, slowly but surely. He had no idea if it would work or not, but he selfishly relished the fleeting moments of their former selves as they faded in and out.

  They grew more alert as the evening wound down into night, each of them more alive in those hours than he’d seen them in over a year. He tried to extend the moment, as if sleep would somehow cause the chemical to seep back into their minds, taking over once again. After watching the longest movie he could find in their embarrassingly small collection, he offered to take them on a night hike. Kate laughed and rolled her eyes, already making her way back to their bedroom.

  Sarah had already fallen asleep on the couch, and Adam carried her to her bed, followed closely by bleary-eyed twins.

  He sighed as he tucked his youngest daughter into bed, not wanting the night to end, but he felt overjoyed at the same time. The day had been a success, and without any major episodes. Another day of this might bring his family back completely.

  He retired to find Kate sleeping soundly, her head having fallen between both of their pillows. It was one of her quirks that both annoyed Adam and made him love her even more. He’d found through trial and error over seventeen years of marriage that there was, unfortunately, no way to move her head without waking her.

  He poked her gently.

  “Hey,” he whispered.

  She cooed softly, but then let out a snore.

  “Hey,” he said a little louder.

  She stirred again, and he saw her eyes flicker, but she still slept.

  Finally he reached for her head and tried to get underneath it with his hand. Don’t pull her hair. He wanted to wake her up just enough to move her head so he’d have room to sleep, not cause her to yelp in pain.

  The process, perfected over thousands of nights, would have been performed flawlessly by Adam had it not been for the most terrifying sound he could have imagined at that particular moment.

  The door to the cabin creaked open, then slammed shut.

  His heart was already pounding as he yanked his hand out from under his wife’s head.

  “Hey— wha—“ her groggy voice called out as she started to wake up.

  “Kate,” Adam said, standing. “I heard the front door open.”

  Kate’s eyes were fully open now.

  “Stay here, and check on the kids.” Adam turned and ran toward their bedroom door. He paused for a moment before turning the handle and swinging the door open.

  Stepping into the hallway, Adam had the sudden realization that he was completely unarmed, and probably stood no chance against an attacker, even if he somehow turned out to be similarly unprepared.

  He’d have to risk it. Adam’s heart beat faster as he strode down the hallway and made it to the front of the house.

  The night was deep and endless, having settled on the cabin like a slow tsunami of uninterrupted black. He waited a few seconds for his eyes to adjust, eventually realizing that there was no moon to provide even the faintest amount of light.

  He took another few steps and reached the light switch on the living room wall. He closed his eyes and flicked it on, feeling the immediate burn of the overhead CFLs bathing the entire front of the cabin in white light.

  Adam opened his eyes, looking quickly around the room for the intruder, ready to take a swing if he had to.

  He was alone.

  No one jumped out at him, and nothing seemed out of place. He waited a few more seconds, then turned back to the hallway.

  Kate’s intense gaze met his, and he knew what had happened before she spoke.

  “She’s gone,” she said.

  Adam felt an icy pinch spread from his throat to his stomach as the dread took root.

  Sarah.

  He turned back to the living room and walked to the closet next to the front door. He found a flashlight, resting on top of the black metal gun safe at the back of the small chamber. He fiddled with the mechanism on the front of the vault until his index finger found the small fingerprint reader and the lock clicked open.

  He opened the case, revealing a Winchester hunting rifle—the one he’d bought over Kate’s protests. It stayed here, never to enter their home in Colorado Springs under any condition. Kate was making a concession just by allowing it near the children here in the cabin. The gun safe was barely enough to placate her aversion to it.

  “Adam, no,” Kate said. Her voice was oddly dulled, as if the emotion were in there somewhere but was being held at bay by a thin layer of ice over the surface. “You might hurt Sammie.”

  Adam stopped. “Sammie? Not Sarah?”

  “She’s gone. Sleepwalking, probably.”

  Adam nodded. “I’ll be careful. But it’s dangerous out there.” He didn’t need to elaborate. There could be anything from mountain lions to wolves out there. Or worse. Adam didn’t want to think about the worse.

  He reached for the box of shells for the Winchester, and found that it was empty.

  What the hell?

  He looked at Kate, who was staring at him passively. It must have been her. She must have gotten in here and disposed of them, or put them elsewhere. “Where are the shells, Kate?”

  “Guns are dangerous,” she said in response.

  “Where are the shells?”

  She said nothing.

  This felt oddly familiar to Adam. Like their old arguments, only on a more passive aggressive level.

  He hefted the Winchester. Without ammo it was useless as anything more than a club. But if he ran into someone out there, it might be enough to scare them off. It might give him a chance to escape.

  It might also get him shot.

  He’d risk it. Having the gun in his hands made him feel a little more brave. And that was something he desperately needed at the moment.

&
nbsp; SEVEN

  Adam thought he was fine in the dark. It didn’t bother him much these days, like it did when he was a kid. Growing up, there had been a point where he’d been afraid to even get out of bed in the middle of the night. The thought of putting his feet on the floor, near that open space under his bed, made his skin crawl and his heart pound. He had once laid in bed half the night crying and calling for his mother to bring him a glass of water, but she hadn’t heard him.

  Since then he’d overcome come those childhood fears. True, he still got a little thrill—a sort of “what if”—when he got out of bed at night and stood near the edge of his bed. There was that nagging sensation, that something or someone could be under there, waiting to grab his ankles. He would feel his pulse quicken, his guts tighten, and that tiny little feeling of dread would creep in. Then he’d laugh at himself, shake his head, and go to the restroom, amused by his lingering, childish fear of the dark.

  This was different.

  The mountains were a place where Adam felt at home, and even a bit free. But they were also a place where the dark really could be out to get you. Wild animals still held sway on the darkened slopes, with powerful predators hunting in the night. On nights like this one, with no moon for light and nothing but thick foliage in every direction, the dark really was something to be afraid of. Even with his flashlight in hand, providing a narrow tunnel of visibility, Adam felt the eyes of the mountain watching him. A hand could shoot out of the bushes and latch onto his ankle at any minute.

  But Sammie was out here.

  He hadn’t expected Sammie to sleepwalk. Sarah was the one who had periodic bouts of getting up and creeping around in the night. The twins were always stable sleepers.

  Still, he cursed himself for not preparing for this better. He should have propped something in front of the door, at any rate. If not to keep people in, at least to keep people out. They were on the run, for God’s sake! What was he thinking?

  Or maybe he wasn’t thinking.

  All this time, Adam had assumed that he was thinking clearly while the rest of the world seemed to be slipping into some sort of … what was it? Suppression? They were becoming suppressed, while he was still lucid.

  But what if that wasn’t entirely the case? What if he was being affected by this after all—sort of a minor allergy attack versus a major head cold or the outright flu? Maybe he wasn’t as immune to this as he thought.

  Because, as he tromped through the undergrowth, sweeping his flashlight from side to side, looking for his little girl in the wilderness, he was more or less calm. In fact, through all of this, from the break in at the Water Treatment Facility to the escape in the mountains, he’d really only had a small amount of fear. He hadn’t panicked.

  And then there was this “escape.” He’d taken his family to the only place he could think of that might be safe, but was it? Only now did it occur to him that there were plenty of records of him owning this cabin. It wouldn’t take long for authorities to check here. What was he thinking?

  More importantly, why was he thinking more clearly now than he had while he and Ethan Greer had been planning all of this?

  Maybe “lucid” was the right term after all. He was starting to feel like he was in a dream, only vaguely aware of his surroundings and his circumstances. But here, in the night air, with the processed water of the city being flushed out of his system, he was becoming more awake. He was starting to think more clearly.

  They needed to get out of this place.

  But first, he had to find Sammie.

  The cone of light from his flashlight passed over stones and tree limbs, casting pools of shadow that seemed even more threatening than the blanket of pure night had been. Snakes might be coiled in those pools, along with bugs or any number of other things best avoided. He realized with a start that Sammie wouldn’t have come this way. Couldn’t have. The underbrush was too thick. She’d get tangled quickly, and would probably even wake up. She’d be terrified, and he’d hear her crying or calling out.

  Adam stopped and listened, but heard nothing more than the sounds of nature at night. He turned and started back in the direction of the cabin. Sammie would be somewhere close by, he thought. She’d be out in the yard somewhere. He’d been a dope to break through the tree line. He hadn’t been thinking.

  As he neared the edge of the trees he finally heard something. It sounded like the crunch of gravel on the road. A car.

  He turned off his flashlight and crept forward, feeling his way through the last of the underbrush and tree limbs until he broke through and was able to crouch at the edge of the yard, just inside the tree line. He could see the house now—lit by the headlights of at least three police vehicles.

  Shit!

  They’d come sooner than expected! Adam cursed again, and gripped the shotgun until his hands hurt. If only he’d found those shells!

  But then what? A shootout with the police? With his family in the cabin just a few feet away?

  He shook his head and focused, forcing his thoughts to clear. This was the sort of thing that had gripped him for weeks now, wasn’t it? Not the dull and docile pattern he’d seen his family fall into, or his co-workers. But a definite dullness all the same. His thinking had been clouded this whole time, and he hadn’t even realized it.

  But he realized it now. And somehow, that was the elixir. He was aware that his mind wanted to shift into some sort of default pattern. Maybe something like the Lost/Return default of the UVFs—a program in his body chemistry that acted as a default. When he allowed his thinking to drift, when he went into “autopilot,” there was a chance he’d end up doing something he hadn’t thought through. He could catch himself, stop himself from making mistakes, now that he was aware of it. But what about the mistakes he’d already made?

  He looked out at the drive as police officers got out of the front two vehicles. They were dressed in SWAT gear—bullet proof vests, riot helmets, and utility belts that would have made Batman envious. Adam considered the empty Winchester in his hands, and thought it had turned out for the best that it was empty.

  As he watched the activity from the police, his heart was pounding and his throat felt dry. The last thing he wanted was to cough, and possibly give away his location. He tried to work up some saliva, but his mouth was cotton and sand. Instead he concentrated on breathing and watching.

  Sammie wandered out of the darkness and toward the lights on the police cars.

  It was all Adam could do to keep himself in check. His instinct was to run toward her, to grab her and carry her back into the woods. But she was too close. They’d both be noticed, and the police might decide to shoot first rather than give chase.

  As it was, one of the officers spotted Sammie and turned on her, raising his weapon.

  “Stop,” the officer said, and Sammie stopped.

  Adam blinked. This was the most anticlimactic police interaction he’d ever seen. The officer hadn’t shouted, hadn’t crouched for cover or rushed her. He’d simply raised his weapon and issued a command.

  Adam felt the blood rushing through his veins. He raised his weapon on my little girl!

  But as he watched the officer lowered the gun and walked to Sammie, putting a hand on her shoulder and moving her toward the third vehicle. He opened the door and gently lifted her inside.

  Then, from the cabin, the doors opened and the remaining officers escorted out the rest of Adam’s family, obediently following without resistance.

  Adam felt his heart pounding, and he gripped the gun even harder. Should he rush them? Should he stand and take aim, threaten the police and demand they release his family? Would he be able to get them away safely?

  Would the police simply open fire and reduce Adam to so many bits of human sprayed over the underbrush?

  Adam forced himself to breath and calm down. He watched the police direct his family into the vehicle beside Sammie. They were fine. They weren’t even cuffed. Just … just suppressed.

  Wha
tever was going on with the water, it went deeper than he suspected. There was much more to this than he’d thought.

  His family was going along without a fight. He was doing things that weren’t rational or logical. The whole world seemed to be acting strange, and it all had something to do with the water. That chemical …

  The vials!

  If the police searched the cabin, they’d be sure to grab the vials, and this would all be for nothing!

  Adam felt his pulse get out of control, and he crouched, inhaling deeply and trying to calm down again. He had to think, not react.

  His family … they were fine, right? They were in custody, but they were safe. He’d have to work out a way to get them out of there eventually, but for the moment this might actually be the best thing.

  The vials, though … if he lost those he wasn’t sure what he could do.

  The police turned on a spotlight mounted to one of the cars and ran it over the wood line.

  Adam dropped to his stomach just before the light passed over him, hugging the ground and praying that he blended in. His T-shirt and jeans were immediately soaked with dew, and he could feel twigs and small stones under him, digging painfully into his chest and stomach.

  He waited.

  In moments he heard car doors slam, and he glanced up to see the police cars swing around and drive away, leaving the cabin in darkness.

  Adam leapt to his feet and sprinted for the cabin. He had the Winchester in his hands, and the flashlight was dangling from a cord around his wrist. He aimed the weapon, sweeping from left to right as he moved forward, hoping that if anyone were still around they would be cautious because of the gun. He was making this up as he went along, though. He had no plan. He just knew he had to get to those vials, if they were still around. And then he’d work out how to rescue his family.

  This whole thing had gone seriously FUBAR.

  The cabin door was unlocked, and as Adam stormed inside he found that it was completely empty. He checked the rooms to be sure, but there was definitely no one around.