Poet Anderson ...Of Nightmares

by Tom DeLonge

  “Of course,” Marshall said, obviously suspicious. “But if this is about his position here at the Eden, I assure you, I’m more than capable of—”

  “It’s not about the Eden,” Samantha told him, smiling politely. “It’s personal.”

  “I see.” Marshall slipped his hands into his suit pockets. “Mr. Anderson will already be docked the first fifteen minutes of his shift for being late, so you can use that time to…go over your papers. I expect you in,” he checked his watch and looked at Jonas, “eleven minutes.”

  “Yes, sir,” Jonas said, nodding. He turned to Samantha, fighting his urge to smile at her. He motioned to the right of the elevator where there was a back hallway leading to a staff room.

  Sam started in that direction, and as Jonas followed her, he could feel Marshall glaring at his back. Jonas and Sam walked swiftly down the hallway, trying to be inconspicuous. Samantha kept her head down and at the entry into the back hallway, Jonas held open the metal door. Samantha looked up as she passed him, her body grazing his. Jonas hitched in a breath and then laughed to himself, still crazy from their earlier moment in the closet. He stepped inside the dimly-lit hallway. The minute the door shut, Samantha grabbed his arm and pulled him close, kissing him. Her lips were on his, her fingers threading under his hat into his hair. Jonas kissed her hard as she backed him into the wall, banging his elbow painfully on the corner.

  He drew back, breathing her in. He kissed her again, on the verge of forgetting about his job, about his dreams, about everything but her. He pulled away; desire left him spinning.

  Sam ran her hand through her hair and swung to rest on the wall next to him, disheveled in the absolute sexiest way possible. They watched each other a moment, the tension thick between them.

  Sam laughed, breaking the spell. “I actually did come here to talk to you,” she said.

  Jonas smiled. “You’re an amazing conversationalist.”

  They waited a moment until the playfulness faded away. Sam’s gaze softened. “I have to show you this,” she said, holding up the folder. “We should head to the office.” She pointed toward the door at the end of the hall and Jonas felt his heart sink. He didn’t want to face his problems. He wished they would all just go away.

  But he knew that wasn’t an option, so he turned and followed Sam as she led him down the hall.

  They walked inside the cramped office with vending machines in the corner filled with assorted snacks and beverages, and two circular tables with chairs that took up most of the space. If not for the posters of the Eden Hotel throughout history, the room would have been indistinguishable from the back room of a Home Depot. Sam took a seat at one of the tables across from Jonas.

  “You’re not going to believe this,” Sam said, tossing the folder on one of the tables. “I went into my father’s office after the two of you left. He has a file cabinet, with the key in his desk. It’s the same place we keep my birth certificate, his marriage license, everything else. It’s not hidden, Jonas.”

  Sam pulled the folder in front of her and opened it. “I found this file there. Now most of these go back to before I was born,” she said. “Drawings and interviews with other people.” Jonas glanced to where Sam was sorting papers and saw sketches of Night Terrors. He recognized them immediately.

  “That’s it,” Jonas said, rounding the table to lean down over Sam’s shoulder. He grabbed one of the papers and examined the creature—its beady red eyes, the rows of sharp teeth and jagged scales. “Holy shit, that’s it,” Jonas whispered.

  Sam pulled out several other pictures that were similar, but with variations in color and size. They were definitely Night Terrors, though. “My father has nearly a dozen documented drawings, including the one you’re holding.” She turned and her hair brushed over the paper. “That was my father’s Night Terror,” she said.

  Jonas swallowed hard, and laid the paper back on the table. “Where did he get the other pictures?” he asked. “Documented from where?”

  Sam turned back and searched for a paper, the light above them flickered, buzzing softly. She picked up an official-looking paper that Jonas thought looked like a contract. Sam’s face was serious. “Well,” she said, handing him the paper. “Turns out my father owns the Center for Sleep Science. He commissioned a doctor to direct a sleep study to find out more. She’s studying dreams.”

  Jonas felt Alexander’s words come back to him: I know more than you think. “He hired Doctor Moss,” Jonas murmured.

  Samantha furrowed her brow, and checked a paper before looking at him. “Uh, yeah,” she said. “How did you know that?”

  Jonas met her eyes. “Because that’s where my brother is. She’s his doctor. Doctor Moss is treating him free of charge.” Jonas ran his hand through his hair as he sorted his thoughts. “So does that mean…is your father experimenting on my brother?”

  “No,” Sam said immediately, but then paused. “I mean, I doubt it. He might just be trying to help him.”

  Jonas wasn’t buying it. He reached over and started rifling through the papers, intent on uncovering every detail. “What else is here?” he asked. “Is there anything in here about Alan?”

  Sam pushed back in the chair, giving Jonas room as she watched him. “No, not that I saw,” she said. She leaned in and picked up a paper. “But I did find this.” Jonas didn’t react at first, and Sam waved the paper in the air. “This was how my father beat his Night Terror. He gave Doctor Moss an account. There are a few others, too. Want the basic gist?”

  Jonas leaned against the table, speechless. She’d found it. Sam had found the information for him and he was scared of what would come next. What he’d have to do to be free of his nightmares. He nodded.

  “My father told Doctor Moss that the Night Terror is triggered by a tragic event. A highly emotional moment.”

  “The accident,” Jonas said, sitting on the edge of the table as he listened. The refrigerator began to hum in the corner of the room. “I bet that’s when it started. Alan and I must have found a way to avoid it after our parents’ death, keeping each other from the grief. But then, after the accident, Alan was gone. The Night Terror showed up in the subway.” Sam looked at him questioningly. “The subway in my dreams,” Jonas explained.

  “My father’s Night Terror first found him when he was nine,” Sam said, glancing down at the paper. “He had a twin sister named Maren.” Sam pressed her lips together sympathetically. “He never talks about her,” she added. “She drowned at their lake house. After that, my father’s Night Terror chased him for nearly ten years.”

  “How did he finally beat it?” Jonas asked.

  Sam pointed to a section on the paper. “Here,” she said. “But it’s not good news.” She put her finger on a sentence and started reading aloud. “To beat the Night Terror,” she read, “one must face their fear. The monster is part of you, from you, of you. To defeat it, you must embrace the darkest part of yourself and absorb it. It’s the only way the creature will stop chasing you.” She paused. “It says the pain is so intense that Dream Walkers have to remove their souls.” She looked up at Jonas, concerned. “It doesn’t say anything about Poets, though.”

  “Your father doesn’t have a high regard for Poets,” Jonas said. He was about to tell her about what happened to the last Poet, according to Molly, but the office door swung open, startling them both.

  Hillenbrand poked in his head, his hat in his hands. “Oh,” he said, catching sight of Sam and Jonas alone in the room together. “Uh, sorry,” he said with a knowing smile, as if he just put together why Alexander Birnam-Wood looked so pissed earlier.

  Jonas quickly gathered up the papers and shoved them back in the file. “We need to talk to Doctor Moss and check on Alan,” he leaned in to tell Sam. He handed her the file and quickly rounded the table to approach Hillenbrand.

  “Hey,” Jonas said in an apologetic voice. “
Is there any way…I really need your help. I have to go see my brother. It’s important. Can you cover for me?”

  Hillenbrand opened the door the rest of the way, but the doubt in his eyes was easy to read. “I don’t know,” he stated. “I’ve already covered for you once this week. And I really need this job.”

  “Marshall won’t fire you,” Sam said, coming to stand next to Jonas. “I’ll make sure.” Jonas glanced over at her, slightly annoyed that she had to depend on her dad’s clout, but more relieved that it might actually work.

  “I’ll give you my entire check,” Jonas said. Hillenbrand seemed to waver, and Jonas grabbed his arm. “For the month,” he clarified.

  Hillenbrand smiled. “Okay,” he agreed. “But Miss Birnam-Wood’s car is with the valet. Take the back door and go around. You can’t let Marshall see you leave. I’ll tell him the doctor called you with an emergency and I offered to take your shift.”

  Jonas sighed appreciatively. “You’re the best,” he said.

  “Yeah, I know,” Hillenbrand said, but he looked good-

  natured enough so Jonas took Sam’s hand and the two escaped into the hallway.

  They jogged down the corridor toward a metal door with an EXIT sign perched above it. Jonas pushed open the door and was immediately whipped in the face with rain, and wind that blew his hat to the ground. The door slammed shut behind him, and Sam started running for the protection of the awning. Jonas picked up his hat, brushed mud from the brim, and slipped it on his head.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  From the street in front of the Sleep Center, Jonas looked up to Alan’s room and was surprised to see his light on. Rain streamed down Jonas’s face as it ran over the brim of his hat. Jonas had a quick fear that maybe Alexander was there, having the doctor poke and prod his brother’s brain.

  “Come on,” Jonas said, racing up the steps. His sneakers sloshed in the puddles and Samantha had to run to catch up with him. The lobby door was unlocked and they entered the building, both dripping with rain. Jonas peered over to the front desk, but found it empty, the computer shut down like the receptionist had left for the day. He darted a look around, the sense of being watched itchy on his skin. He motioned for Sam to follow, and they got in the elevator and headed to Alan’s floor.

  Despite the light from Alan’s window, the hallway was dim, the fluorescents turned off in favor of safety lighting. Sam slipped her hand into Jonas’s, pressing against him to stay close. He looked down at her and she shrugged.

  “This is kind of creepy, right?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” He checked around. “Do you feel that? It’s like—”

  “Someone’s behind us?” she asked. They both spun quickly, but the hallway was empty. Out of the corner of his eye, Jonas thought he saw a shadow move on the wall, but when he turned, it was gone.

  “We should hurry,” Jonas said, and quickly led her to Alan’s room. He paused at the door, making sure no one was around, and then he and Sam slipped inside.

  The room was indeed lit up, and Jonas reached out to turn off the main fluorescent, the soft lighting behind his brother’s bed was adequate and more comfortable. Jonas smiled without thinking. Just being close to his brother made him feel whole again.

  “Sam, this is my brother, Alan,” he said, motioning to the bed. Alan’s eyes were closed, and the ventilator sat unused next to the bed. He was breathing on his own. More than that, someone must have washed his hair and brushed it for him; the part was all wrong. Alan would flip if he knew he was meeting someone looking like this.

  Sam took a step forward and smiled politely. “Hi, Alan,” she said. Jonas felt a lightness come over him. Samantha wasn’t patronizing or being nice for his benefit. She took a seat in the chair next to Alan’s bed, studying him. After a moment, she turned back to Jonas. “You kind of look alike,” she said. “He looks sweeter, though.”

  Jonas sniffed a laugh and came to stand behind her. “He is. Smarter, too.” The room was quiet for a time, and Jonas tilted his head. “I just wish he’d wake up. I could really use his help right now.”

  There was a laugh from the doorway and Jonas gasped and turned to see William standing there. He was wearing a white coat, and on closer inspection, Doctor Moss’s name was printed above the pocket.

  “Hey,” Jonas said, uneasy. “Didn’t hear you come in.”

  William’s eyes were trained on Alan, his lips pulled into a small smirk. “He will wake up, you know,” William said, although his voice was deeper than normal. “Once he’s ready, Alan will open his eyes.”

  Jonas could tell something was off. “William,” Jonas said. “Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?”

  William’s head snapped in his direction and Jonas felt his blood chill. William’s face was slack and calm. Too calm for a person who was awake. Maybe he was sleep-walking.

  “You did go to sleep, didn’t you?” Jonas asked. William flashed him a smile.

  “You are clever…even here.” William turned his back on them and closed the door with a loud click. He cracked his neck, and turned slowly. The whites of his eyes were so bloodshot they were nearly all red.

  Startled, Jonas took a step back, bumping into Sam’s chair. She stood, and Jonas put out his arm protectively in front of her. The mood in the room shifted, fear thick in the air.

  “What’s happening to you, William?” Jonas asked, glancing at his brother, wondering how he’d protect both him and Sam at the same time. “What’s wrong with your eyes?”

  “I can’t say it’s been easy to track you down,” William said. He darted his gaze to Sam, who was reaching for her phone. “Don’t even think about it, girl,” William spat, “or I will rip out your spine.”

  Sam froze and Jonas took her arm, squeezing it to reassure her.

  “Your brother was a tough one to crack, for sure,” William continued with a laugh. “But eventually they all break. Now Poets…they’re a little tougher.” William slipped his right hand into the pocket of his coat and started forward slowly, an animal tracking its prey. “I found it to be a sport, a carefully crafted set of circumstances. Advantages. Step one,” he said, holding up a finger. “Destroy what they love.”

  Jonas’s stomach knotted up and he felt sick, the realization slipping over him. His breath felt caught in his chest. “No,” he whispered, looking around the room for a possible escape.

  “Step two,” William continued without missing a beat. “Trigger their Night Terror.” William stopped at the end of the bed, and Jonas and Sam found themselves trapped between the bed and the wall. “And finally step three,” William said. “Let them be consumed by their darkness. It’s your only way out. Once you see things my way, Poet, you won’t even miss your mommy and daddy anymore.”

  “Jonas, what’s happening?” Sam asked, her voice shaking. “Who is this?”

  Jonas straightened his back, puffing up his chest in an attempt to hide his weakness. “This is REM,” Jonas said. “He took over William’s body.” Just like he took over my mom’s, Jonas thought.

  REM gave a curt bow, enjoying every moment of their fear. “Don’t worry, darling,” REM said to Sam. “I’ll be sure to kill you, too. Wouldn’t want our boy holding on to something in the Waking World. First love is like a drug.”

  Jonas clenched his fists, ready to fight to the death if he had to. REM wasn’t going to get his hands on Samantha. Jonas would die first.

  “Now,” REM continued. “Normally coma patients are the perfect vessels. But Alan here,” he shook his fist at him in mock aggravation, “wouldn’t open his eyes. No matter what I did to him. Awful stuff, too.”

  Jonas felt a huge hole tear into his chest, but he forced himself to be brave.

  “So I began looking for another suitable host who could get close to you,” REM told him. “Most aren’t strong enough, but William here, he’s special. It’s why Madeline Moss
was studying him. Lucky for me, her sleep study left him as easy prey. And honestly, faced with what my Night Stalkers were about to do, he gave himself up willingly. That’s the same choice I’m going to give you, Jonas,” REM said.

  “Fuck off,” Jonas said, clenching his jaw.

  REM laughed, his expression twisting William’s face like a grotesque mask. “Oh, come now,” he said. “No need for vulgarity.” REM pulled his hand from his pocket, a syringe held tightly in his fingers. He flipped off the orange cap and it fell onto the sheets of Alan’s bed. Jonas’s terror spiked as he looked between REM and the needle. “What, this?” REM asked, taking a step closer. “Thorazine. It won’t kill you. But we can’t have you waking up on command, can we? The Night Terror likes a captive audience. This will help you stay asleep so you and he can…chat.”

  “You forget,” Jonas said, “that you’re in the body of an old man. I can take you.” Jonas considered rushing him and knocking him to the floor to get him and Sam out of there.

  “You can certainly try,” REM said. “But I don’t feel pain in this body. I can use these muscles until they tear. You’d be surprised how strong a human being is when the body is used to its maximum potential. You’ll never get past me.”

  Jonas didn’t have a choice. Sam was behind him, against the wall, but if Jonas could just push REM back a few feet, Sam could climb over the bed and head for the door.

  Before he could talk himself out of it, Jonas jumped forward and swung out his fist, connecting with William’s jaw. There was a loud crack, and both men toppled to the floor, grunting as each tried to gain the advantage. Out of the corner of his eye, Jonas saw Sam scramble over Alan’s unconscious body, hitting the floor hard on the other side.

  There was a sharp pain and Jonas yelped. His hands shot to his neck and he felt the syringe sticking out. Almost instantly, the room wavered. Jonas yanked the syringe out of his skin and swung it out wildly, unable to get enough leverage on the floor.