Stop! she thought, pleading mentally with the craft. But it was futile; the beam had her. She watched it, her mind realizing what her body already knew—she was dying. The craft was stealing her life force.

Through the light she could see small drops of liquid rising from her body and moving toward the craft. First beads of perspiration from her forehead and then saliva from her mouth. She tried to swallow, but her throat was completely dry.

The beam gripped her tighter, crushing her lungs as she took her last breath of air. She stared helplessly at the light, watching the water from her body climb toward the machine, feeding it. As her brain began to shut off, it finally made sense. The composition of the ship, the dry Wastelands, the lack of water. But there was no one to tell—no one to see her die.

“Breathe, Sophie. Come on girl, you can do it,” a voice said from above her.

She coughed, sucking in mouthfuls of air. Her skin was cold, like she had been submerged in a bath of ice water.

“Snap out of it, Sophie; you were dreaming!” the voice cried.

A warm glow of light carpeted the room as another voice yelled out, “What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s having a panic attack. I found her like this.”

Sophie struggled to open her eyes as oxygen seeped back into her lungs. She reached for her chest, clawing at her rib cage. Everything was intact, nothing broken.

“Hey, up here,” the first voice said. She heard the snap of someone’s fingers. Emanuel and Holly came into view above her.

“It was just a dream, sweetie,” Holly said, a warm smile on her pale face.

Just a dream.

Was it? Was the craft just a figment of her imagination? Had the landscape in Florida been nothing more than a reflection of Sophie’s fear of what might be going on outside?

She coughed violently, grabbing a glass of water from Emanuel, who stared down at her with concern. The water glided down her parched throat.

“More,” she said, motioning for another glass.

He handed her a second cup and watched her suck down the liquid.

“Another,” she requested.

Holly pulled a strand of blond hair out of her eyes. “Slow down, Sophie, you’re going to get sick.”

“I’m so thirsty,” Sophie replied, polishing off the third glass. “My dream . . . it was so . . .”

“Realistic?” Emanuel suggested.

Sophie nodded. “It was the same as before. The blue ship. Or . . . entity. It’s not a machine. It’s organic. Fed by water.”

Emanuel and Holly stared back at her with nervous, owlish looks.

“And I saw the Kennedy Space Center,” Sophie continued, motioning for another glass of water.

Emanuel reluctantly handed her another cup. The liquid dripped down her chin as she tried to drink and speak simultaneously.

“It was in a desert. At first I confused it for the Wastelands.”

“Sophie, the Kennedy Space Center was submerged under water years ago,” Holly said in her sweetest and softest voice.