Victor jolted awake. Everything around him was dark, but he knew he had heard a noise.
The tent was high ceilinged but narrow, so he, Molly, and Chase lay side by side like sardines, Old Lace snoozing at their feet.
He turned to his right to find Molly calm and limp in her sleeping bag, hair concealing most of her face. He reflected that she needed a haircut, and made a mental note to do so in the morning.
Then he heard the original noise again. It was a low groan, almost like physical pain, full of emotion as well. Vic's first thought was of some animal slowly dying in the surrounding forest.
It was Chase.
Vic sunk into his pillow. Chase he could do nothing about, say nothing to comfort. He knew full well that Gert still haunted all of their dreams, her boyfriend's the most. Wait, would it be ex-boyfriend? He shook the thought out of his head. Stupid cyborg-wiring.
Chase gave a louder moan and thrashed once, twice in his own bag, as if trying to attack someone, and failing.
This woke Molly. Vic prayed she would go back to sleep, trying to implant in her brain: It was just Old Lace…nothing else…sleep….
Instead she began to cry. It was much worse than Chase, her quietly sniffling instead of her usual tantrum-heaving sobs.
He finally sat up. She gasped, surprised and startled.
"Come 'ere," he said, and she climbed into his sleeping bag and snuggled close to him. He held her as she cried, regretting that it wasn't him thrashing in the sleeping bag. Chase always managed to cheer up Molly, but Victor couldn't master it half as well. Chase continued to agonize about unknown things in slumber while Molly grasped control of herself. Crickets once again took up the symphony of the night as the tent grew quiet for moments.
"Vic?" Molly asked, wiping her eyes on her pj's.
"Yeah?"
"I'm scared."
She nestled closer to him and he could feel her wet face on his chest just as he could feel Chase's bad breath on his neck. He fit her into the crook of his arm, his chin on the top of her head.
"I know," he whispered, "I know."