Never Sleep

by Cady Vance

  The scream dies in a choke. Gemma’s fingers dig into Odin’s arm.

  “What’s happened to her?” Her voice quivers.

  This different side to Gemma sends icy stakes into my veins, and I find myself pushing past Odin. I lean up onto my toes to look through the glass, to see what she’s seen. Dozens of wires protrude from a still, pale form. Doctor Clark leans against the nearest wall, head hung low, hands hanging limply at his side.

  I notice the heart monitor. A red flat line moves across the screen. I gasp.

  Odin pulls me back and slowly presses his face against the glass. Gemma’s breath comes out so heavy and fast, I’m sure Doctor Clark will hear her.

  Odin spins around. “We have to get out of here.”

  We flee down the hall and out the broken window, into the warm summer night. We collapse onto the grass, gasping for breath and for some sort of understanding of what we saw.

  “That girl was dead.” Gemma is the one to say it. “Dead from the treatment.”

  “We don’t know that,” I say. “Maybe she was already sick, and Doctor Clark was trying to help her.”

  “Because of the insomnia.” Odin’s voice is hard. “It’s always because of this damn insomnia.”

  “Thora?” Florence’s voice sounds tinny and far away like she’s in a tunnel. Or maybe I am. The world is a whoosh of muted colors and sounds and terrible things I both can’t and don’t want to comprehend. “Fuck, she’s going to Collapse.”

  At that word, my head snaps back up. The room spins, and I feel my body trembling from a terrible combination of fear, anger and pain. Florence crouches by my side, peering through her darkly-lined eyes with concern. Her face slowly comes into focus, morphing from Gemma and into Florence, and my erratic breathing begins to steady. I straighten my back, noticing Florence’s hands wrapped around mine where they’re clutching both the chess piece and yoyo together.

  “You’re okay,” Aiden says from my other side, and I feel his warm hand press against my back like a support beam. “What just happened?”

  “I don’t know,” I say. “I felt like I was drowning.”

  “You almost Collapsed,” Florence says the word again. It’s not a question because we all know the answer. And we all know what it means. If I came that close to a Collapse, even though I beat it now, it’s only a matter of time before it consumes me.

  “You stopped it,” I say, looking at her through blurry eyes.

  Florence hands drop away from mine. “No, you stopped it. I just made sure you were holding onto your trinkets. No biggie.”

  “Florence…” Waves of gratitude flood through me for this strange girl. I can’t even think of the words that could express to her how glad I am she was here and clearheaded enough to know what could delay my Collapse.

  “Stop being gushy. Here, you rest. Lean your head against the wall.” Florence snatches the sheet of paper still clutched between my white fingers. “I’ll do a little tapping and get us a direction for the house of dreams. Just relax for now, Thora.”

  “I’m so sorry, guys. It hit me out of nowhere. I was thinking about my brother, and I just…” I sigh. “How will I make it through the rest of the night like this?”

  Florence stops pecking to give me a fierce look. “I know what just happened sucks eggs, but don’t let it get you down. It was a little exhaustion. You battled it. You won.” She grins. “You’re damn strong, Thora. We all are.”

  “Agreed,” Aiden says. “And we’re going to find the Cafe.”

  Eighteen

  Physical growth is sometimes affected because deep sleep (when the growth hormone is produced) is disrupted.

  - The Chronic Insomnia Handbook for Patients

  Lucas kept calling it the dream house instead of house of dreams,” I say after Florence fails to luck out during her first Google attempt.

  Florence frowns but types it in on the black keyboard speckled with what looks like sweet and sour chicken mixed with earwax. “Why would the song call it the house of dreams then?”

  “They don’t want it to be easy,” Aiden says. “The clues are getting tougher, and don’t forget about that damn test…”

  Aiden trails off, and the only sound coming from our group is Florence’s finger scrolling the worn-down mouse wheel. Even though we just debated our possible robotic heritage over dumplings, I don’t think any of us are ready to talk about what happened again. The strange event at the bakery feels so bizarre and distant now, like it never really happened, like how I imagine a dream would feel after waking. But the dark storm-cloud memory of it hangs over my head, threatening to wash away every hope I have that this is some rare sleep disease and not something as terrifying as inhumanity.

  After another few moments of clicking, Florence pumps a fist into the air. “It’s a museum. Probably the only museum I’ve ever heard of that’s open until midnight.” She clucks her tongue as she glances at the time in the bottom right corner of the screen. “Speaking of time…do we have enough money for another taxi? We don’t have far to go, but we have approximately three minutes to haul ass. If this clock is right.”

  “I’ve got the cash,” Aiden says.

  I stand from the plastic seat and hold my still woozy head in my hands. “I’d say I could use the ride over a walk, but the way they drive around here doesn’t exactly help with the nausea.”

  “We don’t have far to go,” Florence repeats, leading the way out of the internet cafe.

  We pour out onto the sidewalk. Even though the chilly night transforms my arms into a field of goosebumps and the thick scent of exhaust churns in my nostrils, I feel my body buzz with new life after a few deep breaths of the New York City air. I can’t believe how close I came to a Collapse, and no matter what Florence and Aiden say, I know how much my body can take.

  I’ve gone one-hundred and twenty-eight days without sleep. I won’t make it to one-hundred and twenty-nine.

  As Florence steps into the street to hail a cab, Aiden slips a firm hand around my elbow and meets my eyes with a steady, serious gaze. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “No, I’m not really okay,” I admit. “I’ve never come that close to a Collapse before without actually passing out.”

  He nods and glances away. “I don’t want to see you get hurt, Thora. I really don’t. If something happened to you tonight, I’d feel terrible.” He stops when Florence turns to wave us over to a yellow cab angled at the curb. Her eyes flick down to Aiden’s hand on my elbow, and I unintentionally pull away. With flaming cheeks, she motions me into the cab first. I slide quickly across the crinkling leather while they pile in behind me. None of us says a word on the short, lurching drive. I can’t help but replay my almost-Collapse over and over again in my mind. I groan and press my cheek against the splotchy window as the cab swerves through the streets, and I have to close my eyes to shut out the spinning blue lights of a passing police car.

  I don’t know how I can keep going after everything that has happened, but I know I have to. If you make it through tonight, a little voice says, the world will feel right for once. No more Clinic. No more doctors. Just because you came close to a Collapse tonight doesn’t mean you will again before finding the Cafe. You can push through this.

  I blink and realize I’m clutching the red-and-green plastic yoyo Lucas gave me. I hadn’t even realized I’d still been holding onto it this whole time. I quickly look back out the window and hope Aiden and Florence haven’t seen. The yoyo is not a lifeline, I tell myself. But despite my efforts, I can’t bring myself to let it go. Something about holding it makes me feel like everything will be okay.

  After paying the driver and stepping onto the sidewalk, I find the short break has given me enough energy to keep going. My head still pounds, but my eyes are clear. The darkness is at bay for now. I spin in a circle, eyeing the very empty, very quiet streets home to dark office buildings and closed banks and sandwich shops. I imagine this place as busy and bustling during the working day, but
it’s a ghost town now.

  “You sure this is right, Florence?” I ask when there’s no trace of the Dream House.

  “Yeah, they don’t have a sign.” She motions at a plain black door I would have assumed led to apartments or small office spaces. “That’s it right there.”

  “I don’t like it,” Aiden says, peering uneasily at the recessed unmarked door.

  Florence presses a painted nail on the bell for number three without hesitation. A few seconds later, a blaring, buzzer-like noise emanates from the door, so loud I’m sure the entire city block can hear it. Florence shoves the door open with her hip and we all file into the lobby behind her. I’m stopped short at the sight of nothing other than a well-worn carpeted staircase leading up into subdued lighting. No front desk. No signs. No people.

  “This was not what I was expecting,” I mumble as the three of us move up the first flight, the musty scent of incense tickling my nose. Not that I had any real expectations about this place. I just didn’t think we’d be sent trekking into what seems like a random apartment building. My fingers grip the wooden banister as we pivot toward the next flight of stairs. I hover for a moment on the landing. Maybe this is a mistake. Maybe this is another trap of the Sleepers. I don’t know how it could be, but I can’t stop the nibbling suspicion inside me.

  Aiden hesitates when he reaches my side, and his expression mirrors the uncertainty swirling in my stomach.

  “Both of you, chill already.” Florence continues up the stairs without a backward glance. “I read a quick online review of this place at the internet cafe. Everything’s fine.”

  I try to shake off my worry and trudge up the rest of the stairs, supporting myself with one hand sliding up the banister. Not only am I tired, but I’m tired of being tired. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Aiden watching me carefully for any sign of a Collapse. I should be grateful he’s there, but it only makes me feel weak.

  When we reach the third-floor landing, a smiling woman with mousy gray hair greets us outside an open door shooting scent-beams of incense at us. “Hello, we close at midnight, and you’re a few minutes late.” She squints her eyes as she takes a long careful look at each of us one by one, and I fight the urge to squirm under her scrutiny. “But that’s fine. You can come in quickly. Suggested donation is five dollars. It’s only a suggestion so if you don’t have it, go straight through the door and down the hall to the environment. Oh, and please remove your shoes inside.”

  The environment. I hold back a smile as I slide out of my slippers. The three of us make our way down a short, skinny hall, with walls as bright white as our skin. When we reach the end, we see rooms on either side of us. Before I can ask which way we should go, the woman appears. She gestures to the left with a smile and waits for us to pad inside.

  The thickly carpeted room casts a soft pink glow from an array of projectors mounted on the walls, and a strange humming noise reverberates from my feet all the way up to the strands of hair on my head. I slowly turn to soak in this odd pink room with its multicolored balls drooping from the ceiling when the hum shifts into a deeper tone. Weird. I keep turning, and the hum shifts again as if its tone is dancing to my movements.

  I glance to Aiden and Florence, both with confused expressions on their faces, similar to the one I’m sure I’m wearing. And as I swivel my head from side to side, the humming sings a weird jumbled song I both hate and love. The sound is grating to my ears and my brain, but something about it is mesmerizing. It’s a weird sensation to say the least.

  “The tone of the musical score shifts according to your own movement,” the woman says from the doorway. “The environment is best enjoyed lying on the floor. Take your time.”

  Once she disappears from view, I turn to my friends and shrug. “Guess we’re supposed to lie down.”

  The three of us stretch out on the carpet like matchsticks in a row. Everything is coated in that weird pink warmth, and I watch a blue ball spin in a lazy circle over my head. For an instant, it appears purple before it morphs back to blue, the pink lights playing visual tricks with my eyes. As I stare up at the light show, my mind turns to the next clue, and I wonder if we’ll even get a poem riddle this time. The steps keep getting harder, like Aiden said. Maybe we have to focus on the colors and the sounds to find our next location, the ever-changing hums somehow directing us through the concrete city maze.

  The room takes on a new vibration, and I don’t realize it’s footsteps until it stops right by my head. “Hallo.”

  It’s Lucas.

  My heart lurches, and I shoot halfway off the floor before I realize what I’m doing.

  “Hi.” I sit back down and avoid making eye contact, certain he can see how flushed my cheeks have gotten. Does the pink glow make it even more noticeable?

  “I see you got here alright, then. The internet cafe helped?” The scent of fresh laundry falls with him as he settles onto the floor by my side. I can feel the inches separating us. I might even be able to count them if I concentrate hard enough. And I can’t help but try as I hold my breath. Three inches, at most. That’s all there is between his body and mine, and…

  What the hell is wrong with you?

  I clear my throat. “Yes. Thank you.” And now I’m being ridiculously polite, like he’s some elderly relative who has asked me about my college applications.

  “Good. I’ve been there loads of times. Not for the internet really, but for the games. My laptop is rubbish.”

  “What do you play?” I want to look over at him, but I keep my head right where it is, face focused on what’s above me rather than the gorgeous boy at my side. Pink ceiling, pink ceiling, pink ceiling. I wonder what his blue eyes look like under this light.

  “Anything and everything.” I can hear the grin in his voice. “It’s probably a good thing I can’t play whenever I want. I wouldn’t stop.” He laughs. “I’m sure that makes me sound rather nerdy.”

  “Yep.” I smile up at the ceiling. “Next you’ll be telling me your favorite TV show is Star Trek.”

  “Well, actually,” he says. I hear the rustle of clothes as he shifts onto his side, and now he is looking at me. Pink ceiling, pink ceiling, pink ceiling. But before Lucas can say another word, Aiden practically throws himself from the ground. He looks angry, all scowls and forehead wrinkles, like he’s a grumpy old man about to shake his cane.

  “Who are you and what are you doing here?” Aiden asks. Or more like demands.

  Lucas stays still and calm. He doesn’t make a move to get up, and it only seems to agitate Aiden more. “I’m just trying to help, mate.”

  “Help how?”

  “He’s helped us a lot, Aiden,” I say, feeling the need to defend Lucas. Even though he’s not telling us everything, he has helped. “We wouldn’t have made it this far without him.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything.” He sighs, crosses his arms and stares out the window. The room is silent, none of us knowing exactly what to say. Finally, he shakes his head. “You can’t trust anyone but yourself.” And with that, he strides toward the open doorway.

  “Where are you going?” I sit up and call after him. Florence scrambles to her feet, but he holds out a hand to stop her. She freezes halfway to the door, dismay sagging her normally perky face.

  “I need a smoke.”

  Florence tries to follow him again, holding her cigarette pack up for him to see, like a silent, Hey, I smoke, too, remember?

  “Alone,” he says, backing out of the room.

  Florence takes another step as he disappears around the corner. “Should we go after him?”

  “I don’t know, maybe? He said he wanted to be alone, but I don’t think any of us should be. At least not on the streets.” I stand and move over to the window, looking out at the empty sidewalk below. “Why don’t you go talk to him? I’ll stay here in case the clue materializes.”

  She nods and stomps out the door, her long blond hair swinging behind her. Somehow, she still manages to look
fierce in socked feet.

  Lucas is still lying on the floor, and after an awkward moment where I’m not exactly sure what to do with myself, I settle back down beside him.

  “He’s a bit moody.”

  “Understatement of the year.” I think back to when we first met in the park and how different he seemed then, only a few hours ago. Easy-going, funny. “He actually wasn’t at first, but he’s gotten increasingly on edge with every passing second. But, I mean, can you really blame him?”

  “I’m only meant to help.”

  “I know. Thanks for everything you’ve done. Really. I mean it.” I’m the one who shifts sideways now, and I find myself drinking in his profile, how smooth and soft his skin looks underneath the glow. “I think if you told us some things, he might stop being an ass about you.”

  “Thora, I can’t.” He sighs and rolls onto his side to face me. I shift my eyes away to stare at the thick, tan carpet. “I want to, I do. I just can’t. I shouldn’t even be here now, really, but for some reason, I can’t stop myself from trying to help.”

  My breath hitches, and I finally look at him. His eyes are bluer than they normally are as if their color is somehow magnified by the soft light blanketing us. I don’t know how I’m ever going to look away.

  “Why can’t you tell us?” I ask. “Why aren’t you supposed to be here?”

  He gives me a slow smile that sends my heart zooming into next gear. “Sod it. I can probably tell you that at least, but I require something in return. Quid pro quo. I tell you things, you tell me things.”

  I grin. “Silence of the Lambs.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t force you to rub any lotion into your skin.”

  “Ha, what is it then? What is it you require of me to learn your secrets?”

  His grin widens, and he leans in close as if he needs to whisper what comes next, even though the room is empty except for us. His lips brush my ear. I can’t help but hold my breath in anticipation of what he’s about to say, but the sudden pounding of footsteps jostles the moment away. I tear my gaze from Lucas to see Florence fly into the room, breath ragged, eyes wide. Instinctively, I jump up, knowing my face is the color of my hair, both from the heat of the moment and from embarrassment at being found with Lucas’s lips practically kissing my ear. I expect to see Florence’s trademark knowing smile at catching us…doing whatever it was we were doing, but instead, my stomach drops at the fear in her eyes.