FATP-CHAPTER TWO - ON THE WAY HOME
They had to get up extra early to make it from where a friend recommended they stay, by the water and decent seafood restaurants, and caught a coach into the Los Angeles station. From there, it was a slow ride uphill and by late afternoon, they were more than ready for their overnight stop in Sumner. Like Modesto, this town had been made by the railroad company's decision to use it as a passenger and freight stop. Despite it looking like a good place for a bit of exploring, Johnny suggested they eat at the hotel and call it an early night. Scott didn't argue since their train left before sunrise the next day.
Unlike the suite the two brothers had enjoyed during their stay in Los Angeles, the hotel in Sumner only had individual rooms. They ate supper, then parted ways in the hall before entering their rooms which were next to one another. Johnny noticed Scott's room went instantly quiet and he hoped his brother was finally resting. Neither of them had managed to get much sleep on the train. It was a typical train; noisy, hot, uncomfortable and full of noisy, hot, uncomfortable whining passengers. He tried to read, and then decided Scott wasn't the only tired Lancer and went to bed.
"RUN, TOM! GET OUT OF THERE!"
Scott's voice easily penetrated the wall between their rooms. Johnny thought he had been awakened by people talking in the hall but, when Scott screamed again, he knew what was going on. He threw on his pants and rushed next door. Scott had locked his door, but it only took one serious push with his shoulder and Johnny was inside.
"Scott," he spoke while lighting a lamp, "wake up. You're dreaming, Scott."
"What?"
Scott sat up and tried to orient himself to where he was and who was talking to him.
"You were having another one of those nightmares."
"Oh, for heavens sake," he moved to the side of the bed and rubbed his face with both of his hands, "I can't believe I woke you all the way in the next room."
"Believe me," Johnny, as always, tried humor when things were too tense, "these walls aren't much thicker than a piece of paper."
Scott smiled, but couldn't hide the fact he was disgusted that he'd been screaming, again.
"Bad one?"
"I don't remember. What did I say?"
"I only heard part. Something about 'getting out,' but your words weren't clear."
They sat quiet while Scott thought over what Johnny shared.
"Make any sense?"
"Not really."
Scott rested back on the headboard and put his feet up on the bed. Slightly shivering as the sweat created by his nightmare began to dry on his skin, he pulled up the covers and tucked them in around his legs.
"Do you remember any of it?"
"Foggy stuff. I know I'm back in the army. I think we're somewhere stuck in this incredibly thick underbrush … Maybe it was around Five Forks? We got stuck there in a nasty mess due to bad reconnaissance on the exact locations of the enemy's flanks. That was one of a few hellish afternoons on that campaign, but I'm not sure."
"That's okay. I'm not certain there's proof nightmares are necessarily based on the truth. Otherwise, why would little kids have nightmares about monsters being under their beds?"
He smiled, but Scott didn't smile back. He was deep in thought and confused by his nightmares following them from Los Angeles.
"Are yours true?"
"Pardon?"
"Everybody has a nightmare now and then, Johnny. Are yours about true things?"
"Sometimes."
"Like?"
Johnny stood up and moved to stare out the window.
"We're not awake in the middle of the night because of any bad dreams on my part."
"Sorry." Scott had spent over five years learning about his brother in heavily guarded bits and pieces, admitting, "Too personal. I shouldn't have asked the question."
"You feel like walking?"
"No," he really didn't and felt utterly exhausted, "I'm going to try and rest. Thanks for the offer."
"Not a problem."
Johnny crossed the room and stopped by the door. When he looked back, Scott had already slid down, but his eyes were focused on his brother.
"Lamp lit or …"
"Out is fine."
After his brother blew out the lamp and closed the door, Scott repeated his earlier prayer. He had no idea why these nightmares were suddenly taking over his dreams, but he prayed for them to stop.