Saturday, April 11, 2020

Sam walked to the door, stopping and picking up the trail of books, clothes, and toy cars which littered the space in front of the front door. It didn't seem to matter how often they told her, Grace had a special affinity for this highly trafficked alcove.

The knock came again, three times.

Right.

Sam dropped the toys into a bin by the couch and smoothed down her blouse. Then, she caught Aqua by the collar so the dog wouldn't run out of the house, and opened the door. "Dad! We weren't expecting you until tomorrow."

She hugged her dad the moment the door closed and she could release the dog, his arms strong but his embrace gentle.

"Sel'mak and I caught an earlier flight. I hope you don't mind."

"No, of course not. You remember my friend, Janet."

Jacob nodded toward the petite brunette. "Dr. Fraiser."

Sam moved to join Janet in the living room, but her dad caught her elbow. "Sam, can I get a word?"

"Sure, Dad."

He eyed the doctor. "Alone."

Janet waved away Sam's apology. "I should make sure Cassie and Grace aren't getting distracted upstairs."

Sam watched her friend go before she threw a frustrated look at her father. "Dad, she's my friend. You could have at least been nice to her."

Jacob shrugged. "I was nice. I just need to talk to you."

Sam gestured to the sofa. "Okay. What's up?"

Her father's face wrinkled in concern. "Sammy, you need to listen to me. You need to wake up."

Sam rolled her eyes. "Wake up? I didn't know I was sleeping."

"You're not sleeping. Not really."

Sam scooted back from her father, his urgency activating some of her more dormant military skills. Even though she'd retired from the military and taken up a post teaching applied physics at Georgetown University after Grace was born, her old instincts flared up from time to time. "So, if I'm not sleeping, what am I doing?"

"You're fighting an infection. A virus."

Snatches of memories zipped through her brain. COVID-19. Quarantine. At-risk. Masks. Respirators.

She shook the memories from her thoughts. "Why are you telling me this? I mean, Charlie graduates from high school tomorrow. Why are you telling me this now?"

Jacob grasped at her hands. "Sam, this isn't real. None of this is real."

Sam offered him a patronizing smile as she walked into the kitchen. "I hate to break it to you, Dad, but April Fool's was last month. You really had me going there for a minute, though. When I tell Jack, he's never going to let me live it down."

"What was the last thing you remember doing for work?"

Sam eyed her father. "What?"

"What was the last thing you really remember doing at work?"

Flashes of metal. Space. "Colonel Carter, we have a message from the Pentagon."

Her expression lost all sense of amusement as she looked at her dad. "Okay, Dad, you can stop that now. Whatever you're doing to trigger these visions, you need to cut it out."

Her dad caught hold of her arms. "Sam, listen to me. Those flashes are real. This? It's all a fabrication. You need to let it go. You need to let them go."

"Let who go?"

"Me. Charlie. Janet. Grace."

She stepped back from her father. "What are you talking about?"

"You're not forty-five, Sam. You're fifty-two. Jack's son, Charlie, shot himself with Jack's personal weapon. You never got a chance to meet him."

Sam wrenched herself out of her father's grasp. "Stop it, Dad. Charlie's graduating from high school tomorrow. Then, he's going to Sara's for the summer."

Her father's face lined with pain. "Sammy, please, wake up. I know you've lost a lot in your life, but so has Jack. If you don't let go of this fantasy, if you don't wake up, he's going to lose you, too. I know you don't want that to happen, so wake up."

The front door opened. "Did I hear someone say my name?"

Sam turned to her husband, who caught the look in her eye. "Sam? Something wrong?"

Her brain whizzed at dizzying speeds. She felt sick.

The image of him walking out of an emergency room holding the hand of a little boy before he kissed a woman in a jeans jacket.

Screaming for him as she fired at the Jaffa who had shot him only a few yards from where Janet and Daniel stitched up an injured airman.

General Hammond's funeral.

Her dad's memorial.

Janet's funeral.

Cassie and her new baby.

Jack stepped toward her. "Sam?"

She flinched and pulled out of reach of both her father and her husband. "How do I do it, Dad?"

"Just open your eyes, Sammy."

Jack turned red as he grabbed her father by the lapels. "What the hell are you doing to her?"

Sam clenched her eyes shut.

A girl with light brown curls peeked up over the railing. "Mommy!"

This is the dream. This is the dream. This is the dream.

Jack's hands were on her arms except they were smooth, perfect. Not calloused. "Sam, it's all right. That wasn't your dad. He was an alien pretending."

That voice. . .

Her eyes flew open. "Fifth?"

The curly-haired Replicator gave her a shy smile. "This was better, wasn't it?"

She was going to be sick.

"Sammy, open your eyes."

But she just stared at the human-form replicator. "How are you here? My duplicate killed you."

He shrugged as he brushed a strand of her hair behind one ear. "My physical form, maybe, but part of me will always be here in your mind."

He pushed his fingers toward her forehead, interfacing with the computer in her mind.


Sam gasped awake. She was wet, drenched in her own sweat, and shivering under what seemed to be a half dozen heated blankets. There was something over her nose and mouth, a clear, plastic mask of some kind.

Her teeth chattered as her nurse looked up from taking her pulse. The rotund, dark-skinned woman beamed as she dropped Sam's wrist. "Oh, baby, you're awake. Praise the Lord. How're you feeling?"

Sam reached up to the mask, but the nurse gently pulled her hand back down. "So. Cold."

The nurse pulled an infrared thermometer from her pocket and aimed it at Sam's forehead. "Yep, that's your fever. Seems like it broke some time in the last hour or two. Your husband's going to be glad to hear that. Calls every hour without fail. It'll be good to have some good news for him. You've got yourself a keeper there, missy."

Sam coughed and the mask fogged up, the moisture under the plastic mask creating an uncomfortable friction over her skin. Once again, she reached up to adjust the mask, but the nurse shook her head. "Baby girl, you're gonna have to leave that on until we get the doctor up here to check on you, okay? Not only will it protect you, but you're on oxygen until you get to feeling a bit better."

Though it had been half a century since she'd been anyone's baby girl, the woman's deep voice and gentle demeanor helped Sam feel safe and nurtured, as if her own mother was the one caring for her. Even if the woman was at least twenty years Sam's junior.

Sam caught the woman's long-sleeved arm in her hand. "Thank you."

Her voice was hoarse and her throat sore, but she couldn't tell if it was because of the virus, her cough, or just a lack of use.

Because of the mask the nurse wore affixed to her face, the only indication of the woman's smile was in her dark brown eyes, but if Sam had to guess the woman had a beautiful, bright smile that was impossible to ignore. "Oh, honey, it's a privilege, really. Especially since I've got a good feeling that you're gonna be one of the lucky ones."

Just the act of opening her eyes had worn Sam out, but the idea of falling back asleep terrified her. The last thing she wanted was for her subconscious to resurrect Fifth in her dreams again.

The nurse took a few more vitals before she dropped her pen into one of the pockets of her scrubs. "Now, sit tight. I'm gonna call the doctor. Then, I'm gonna call your husband and give him the good news. Want anything? Another warm blanket?"

Sam bobbed her head three times. It was all the enthusiasm she could muster.

"Well, I'm Lakeisha, so if you need anything, you just push the call button, and I'll be in as soon as I can. Okay, baby?"

Sam must have looked frightened because the woman brushed Sam's hair back from her face. "Honey, you're one of the lucky ones. You hear me, baby girl? You are going to be just fine."

Sam took control of her breath again, slowly inhaling and exhaling to try to trick her body into believing itself safe. I'm one of the lucky ones. I am going to be just fine.

Lakeisha's eyes lit up again, apparently pleased with how Sam calmed herself. She gently patted Sam's shoulder. "See, you got this. Now, just page me if you need anything."

Sam licked her lips, now parched and dehydrated. "Yes. Ma'am."


Author's Note: The name Lakeisha means happy, joyful. It was an apt name for this delightful character.