They waved the books over their heads and roared at Kennet to behold them.

I got nobody, Hook yelled. You were all I had and you quit on me.

The crowd resumed the march up the steps but slower now. As they proffered millions of little diaries and journals, they spoke in one mighty voice:

These are our weapons. Our stories are all we have. And you. We have you. Our greatest weapon. The storyteller.

You were there.

Prove you were there.

Tell this fish tale out of school.

“Nyck.”

Hook threw his notebook at Kennet’s feet, backing him to the edge. Tell it. That’s your choice, Fish. Pick me and tell it, or jump.

“Nyck.”

Tell it or jump…

“Nyck, darling, wake up.”

With a strangled cry, Kennet threw himself over the edge and out of the dream so violently, so thoroughly, he tumbled off the mattress, right against the legs of someone standing next to his bed. Like two bowling pins, they sprawled in a pile at Emil’s feet, who was in pajamas and robe, leaning on his cane. Minor crouched nearby and in the doorway crowded Marta, Little, Trudy and Kirsten.

“Oh my God,” Kennet said hoarsely, sucking air around his hammering heart. It was Astrid he’d knocked over, and he clutched at her.

“Easy, easy,” Minor said. “You’re okay.”

“Oh my God, I’m sorry,” Kennet said.

“It’s all right,” Astrid said, sitting up and taking his head. “You’re awake. Look at me. You’re awake now. You’re home.”

“I’m sorry,” Kennet said, scrambling back on his butt to lean against the side of the bed. “It was a dream.”

“Just a bad dream,” Astrid said, her voice pitched low and smooth. “You’re home. You’re safe.”

“You’re awake,” Minor said. “It’s done. All over.”

Kennet pulled his hands through his hair and then managed a wobbly smile for his family. “Holy mackerel, I woke up the house.”

“I think you woke up the unborn,” Marta said, a hand on her belly.

“He’s all right,” Minor said. “Bad dream. Happens to me all the time.”

“Let’s everyone go back to bed,” Emil said. He planted his cane close to Kennet’s foot and held a hand down. “Up you go now.”

Rattled and embarrassed, Kennet didn’t need the help, but he humored the old man and got up. He apologized again for the rude awakening, then went in the bathroom to splash cold water on his head and down two glasses. And shake hard enough to make his teeth chatter.

A tentative knock on the bathroom door. “You all right?” Little called.

“I’m fine, bud, just taking a leak. Go back to sleep.”

Kennet flushed the toilet for appearances’ sake, then stared at his pale reflection a long time, waiting for the last bedroom door to close and the house to go quiet.