They’d ended up talking for hours, exhausting every possibility, every option to escape the holding cells and the mental commands from the dreams to unleash the disasters waiting inside them all.

You said it came for you almost hourly now? You’ve fought it off since we’ve been talking? she’d asked.

He’d realized it then. No, actually. Not since then.

She’d nodded, looking every bit the calculating doctor. Like a spinal cord epidural.

What? he’d asked.

We use them as a pain inhibitor. Perhaps when you open these channels to us, it blocks its ability to get to you. And, as a result, only you can control us. Well, best keep at it to keep it from getting to you. Plus, I need to vent.

She was angry. Furious. She hated the idea of something having control of her. Hated that she was locked up inside a room.

I survived medical school. Someone should only be in prison once in their lives, she’d said.

He’d grinned. She’d smirked.

Then she was back to business, asking more about when the dreams had come to him, and asking for details about the moments since the agents arrived at his trailer in Arkansas.

He’d told her everything, wishing there were something—anything—humorous to mention, just to see her smile again. He was desperate for something to break the tension of the last days.

When their meals had come, they’d broken the communication. After eating, he’d tried to read, worrying that there was no way Nanna could make sense of what he’d said.

The dreams had reached him so suddenly, he stood up in alarm.

The room was too small for any type of real exercise, but he knew from before that physical exhaustion often kept the dreams at bay. He did pushups until he couldn’t lift himself, but then lay on the floor, closing his eyes.

The dream waited.

Desperately, he’d stood. He’d reached out to her.

Come on in, Jane replied.

He could almost hear a hiss of anger as their communication blocked out everything.

Tell me everything, he’d said.

Everything?

Talk to me until there’s nothing left to say. I’m so sorry that you’re caught up in this.

She’d leaned forward. Now that I’ve touched you, I can sense where you are. You think your grandmother can too?

It’s different for adults, I think. We have to touch first. It’s like it burns a connection into us, that’s the best way I can describe it. But Lily and that boy Ryan, who I told you is down here with us? They could do it before we ever make contact. He thinks it’s because they’re children, and they’re somehow tuned in more precisely than adults. Ryan says we’re right beside the Potomac River, beneath some warehouse. I hope my Nanna knows that.”