Insomnia

12

"Fourteen..." gasped Esme. "Fifteen."

She let go of the pullup bar and collapsed onto the exercise mat.

Oswald clapped.

"Wow," he said. "That was impressive." He offered the last fry from the thin cardboard container in his hands. She waved him away. She could smell the delicious oil through the filtration systems of her mask, but Esme already had plans for lunch and didn't want to ruin her appetite.

"Muscles atrophy when you dream, Oz," she said, breathing heavily. "Need to keep myself in shape."

He plopped the greasy potato sliver into his own mouth. "If you say so." Oz was slouched on an exercise ball, bobbing slightly as he attempted to keep his balance. Messy black hair. Rough denim jeans, and a wrinkled T-shirt. His lower lip folded beneath the top, as if so used to quiet pondering that it had gotten stuck. Dark brown eyes roamed the room, unmasked. Like all habitations, her home maintained a perfect airlock, and was completely safe to breathe. But Esme still wore her mask.

"Find out what you can about these 'Omens of Knightmare,'" she said.

"You sure they're really our best bet? Plenty of crazies out there, not all of them really know what they're talking about."

"Mmm, true. But they're as decent a lead as any. A few of them even gave positive identification of the Knightmare. Crystal blood body. Black eyes."

"They could have read that somewhere," countered Oz, "but sure. I'll look into them."

Esme nodded gratefully.

"You were trying to tell me something earlier?" she asked. "About the data cluster?"

"Yeah. It's on the south side, not too far from your brother's place." A short pause as he got up from the exercise ball with a slight hop. "You know, I went over there a few days ago. Watched a movie with him. He seems better."

"He talk?"

"No."

"Then he's not better."

Oz was a college friend of her brother's. They'd met while Oz was completing some incredibly specialized degree, far beyond an undergraduate education. He was only a year older than Atticus which made his academic pedigree all the more impressive.

She'd known him for about five years now, ever since he'd moved to their city. The three of them met regularly in Somnus and out. Until recently, she'd found it difficult to fit in with the other two's boisterous, and quite frankly absurd, sense of humor. It was a source of annoyance for her at the time, but now she would give anything to hear them screaming about some nonsensical inside joke in her living room.

When Atticus was attacked, Oz had insisted on helping her with the investigation.

"You can't go back out there, Esme," he had said. The two were gathered on the couches in her living room. It had been a week since that monster had come into their lives. Her eyes were bleary, and remarkably tired considering how much time she'd spent in Somnus.

"I can't stop looking for answers," she rasped. Her throat was dry. She hadn't had anything to drink in the few days she'd been asleep. "I won't give up."

"Not saying you should do either of those things. But you need to take a break. You need to eat. Drink. Do... something."

She shook her head.

"I gotta... I gotta..." murmured Esme, lumbering back to her feet. The blood rushed to her head. Hunger and dehydration wracked her brain, and she tumbled back onto the couch. Her vision blacked for a moment before her eyes settled back onto Oz. He'd stood up and was walking towards the kitchen. She heard the faucet running.