Ch. 10 Somnium Fur
"A nightmare?" Mulder asked, a thin tone of sarcasm invading his words, of course a murderer was a nightmare.
"Yes. She… she somehow interfered with the sleep patterns of the other patients, they felt sleepless, and said that they dreamed, of her. In the mornings their rooms were unlocked. I think she'd been in there. I think she wasn't their when they went to bed, but appeared in their dreams and was there in the morning. Later…they went missing."
"So she stole their energy, their sleep, by appearing in their dreams, which made her appear in the patient's room," Mulder attempted to surmise what Johnston said.
"I didn't say it you did. But I think she took something else," he replied hesitant to continue.
"Dreams. A Dream theif."
"Yes. They often woke up disoriented, remembering only Melody and feeling fatigued. That is part of the reason I helped her escape. Once I did, the odd happenings stopped. For a while. Then they started to disappear. I knew it was her. I, just… Her sister must have given her something terrible to turn her into a sociopath, because before, she was so sweet. So, small and innocent and in need of help." He sighed. "She called herself a Nightmare," Johnston added, looking up into Mulders eyes.
Mulder quickly looked away and swallowed, "No idea where she would have gone?"
"Home? Maybe? It is the only other place I have ever heard of her going."
"Mr. Johnston, you said earlier that Lucille kept checking her phone all day. Do you know why now?"
"I still don't know. I think it was probably Melody. I can't be sure, her phone was take off her body by her killer, who was either Melody or her partner."
"One more thing, why did you lie? We could have helped you."
"Why do people lie? We get scared. She is going to kill me now; it just took me until now to come to the conclusion that it's better for me to die than the many more that would if she went off freely."
"Well thank you, I will call in police if you like, as a protective guard." Mulder stood up, rolling back his shoulders, "I am going to find her, and Scully. Then we are going to figure out what has been happening here. Don't leave town." Johnston merely nodded as Mulder strode out the door. He poured himself another drink as an afterthought. No police guard could have kept away a nightmare.
-o0o-
Scully was surrounded by lights; they cast shadows over her face and danced on her jaw. She felt the lights like she felt everything else in this half-conscious state. She closed her eyes waiting to reappear elsewhere, wishing now to sleep. Just sleep. She found now that she couldn't. Exhaustion tugged on her body, she was weary, opening her eyes was a reflex Scully fought to ignore. She attempted to get up, discovering now that she was bone tiered. Drained, limbs sluggish, she stood only with great effort.
A field, corn, somewhere in North Dakota, a light breeze chilled her skin and the smell of leaves and grass hit her nose. She watched on that hill as a figure approached her. Closer and closer, she saw the sharp boned woman walk. Until she faced Scully, her features gleaming brightly in the night air.
"Hello," she smiled voice absent of any tone. Scully turned and raised an eyebrow. The woman who invaded her dreams mirrored the action with a small quivering smirk.
"I didn't think I would kill you. I thought I could stop. Let you go. You would have been okay. Slightly weary, confused. But okay. And I, I could have disappeared, started over somewhere else. Used my… ability sparingly. But," she laughed, insanity creeping back into her voice, "…but! You were just so detailed, so able to conjure up every image to life. I was enthralled. And now," she said malice edging her tone, "you are going to die."
Scully breathed out, seemingly unfazed. The woman's wild accusations began, she yelled something else, screamed, and laughed like lunatic, but Scully closed her eyes, for once enjoying the ability to end up alone, in a little white room. There was the smallest bit of logic fact in that motion, closing eyes led back here. The only thing that made any sense or reason, however small, was that room.
She shuffled, very slowly to another place, closing the door behind her, finding her mother waiting in their old living room. Her hand flew to her mouth halting the sound it had begun to make. She moved, as quickly as she could, still exhausted to her mother's side. The mother of her dream said nothing, silently stroking her daughters hair as she curled into her side, seeking any comfort, any solace from the never ending nightmare. Scully felt all of five years old again, doing an action she had not done since the days of child hood. She gripped her mother's shoulder, and against her will her eyes flickered shut.
Plain room, no window, fluorescent lights, chemical hospital smell, she was back.
She hardly walked now, leaning into the wall for support, holding onto the belief that maybe one of the doors led to consciousness, led to escaping.
A Church, stained glass windows, golden spires, a wooden pulpit at its head, came into view. Pews lined up into rows, Bibles and choir music mixed along each row. Candle light flickered, flames eating up the air. She reached the row of candles, lighting one with another. Gripping her cross necklace between fore and middle fingers she knelt in front of the pulpit, praying for the first time in a long time.
Walls, a box in room format, almost nothing left, Scully got up, pressing onwards, clinging to the wall side. She felt its smooth surface, as it captured her fingerprints; she turned the knob on another door. Her last door.
It opened with a groan, it was so heavy, and she pushed until it was side enough to fall through. And she did, ending up back in the sleep center. People circulated right around her, as if she was a normal immobile fixture in their way. In some ways she was, she was dreaming, and in the illogical sense that dreams flowed, her being there was bound to transpire. These things existed only in her head. At least that is what she told herself. She plodded down the halls, poking in rooms, still unaware of who killed Lucille Valope. Well, she knew very well who, thoughts drifting to the brown haired, sharp lady. The same woman who was slowly killing her. The medications for being put to sleep she had been given could not last in overdose much longer, and paired with the mystery substance of death… She had no idea what the combined effect could be. Scully massaged her temple, this was so complicated. Medications involving some kind of substance erosion should have killed the bodies she had seen in the lab. Unless… she pondered, unless on their own, they couldn't do anything. They had to be combined with something else, something… deadly enough to kill.
So that was it. The originally fluid, purpose probably to aid in sleep, was harmless. So what made it deadly? If it had been made of Benzodiazepines, inducing a sleep coma, much like the one she was in, it wasn't outright bad. What was it then? Something strongly acidic, maybe? Scully was too tired to come up with anything substantial. To sort through the facts, until logic spoke, to find whatever psychotropic drug that cause hallucinogenic dreams, one that was acidic and deadly…
Plain room, no window, fluorescent lights, chemical hospital smell, she was back and unable to get up. Unable to open her eyes, she lay in silence, in darkness. Later she felt a beat of pressure on her arm, heard manic laughter, and wondered if she had finally woken up, or if she was still dreaming.
-o0o-
Night had fallen. It was a cloudless, moonless night, only the light of the stars reached the outskirts of Rugby, and many stars there were. Entire constellations never seen by city slickers were shining in all relative brightness. No trees, no cast shadows, no contrast, everywhere to been seen was simply shroud in inky black.
Mulder drove down the roads, a bit faster that he intended, reaching Melody's house in a matter of minutes. After talking to John, he now knew the drugs in his partners system could kill her. He had called Jack Conoway, who told him that the other victim, a registration worker, had died from the same injected compound that Lucille Valope had. Now Scully was with the Nightmare, and her chemical compounds. Now Mulder felt fear creeping up his spine.
He ran into the house, breaking past the lock door with a swift kick. He ran inside, past stairwell, pause turned around and went back down the stair well. Mulder reached the bottom, a single door in his path, he shoved it open. It was empty.
AN: Thank you all readers, reveiwers, followers. The next chapter is the end!