Notes from the Past
by Tanya Reed
All right folks, this chapter marks the half way point of the story. Thanks to everyone who is still with me, and I really hope you are enjoying it.
Disclaimer: I do not own Relic Hunter.
-----------------------------
Part 2, Chapter 1
The next day, Sydney and Nigel started out quite early. They left Karen and Claudia cheerily taking down all the decorations—except for the tree, which Sydney was leaving up until after New Year's Day—and chattering wildly. The two of them put her in mind of chipmunks.
Nigel had taken digital pictures of the coin in case they were needed, and Sydney left the real thing with their two friends. She found she was glad Claudia had decided to stay and was looking forward to spending more time with her.
The ride to the institution went by quickly with Nigel to talk to. They were used to traveling together and fell into an easy camaraderie within minutes of leaving the driveway. They talked about the mystery a bit, and a bit about classes and exams. They talked about Claudia and Karen and how much they had enjoyed spending Christmas with them. Nigel napped a little and they bickered good naturedly over radio stations. The normality made Sydney feel as if this were any other hunt. It took the personal nature out of it, and Sydney was grateful to Nigel for that.
They didn't run into snow until about halfway through their journey. It started out as big flakes that gently kissed the windshield. They fell so softly, they were almost hypnotic. As Sydney drove on, they got a little worse, smaller and thicker, splattering against the car. Still, it wasn't too bad. At this point, Nigel was sleeping. Sydney yawned, wishing he'd wake up to counteract the soothing snowflakes, but letting him sleep on.
Shady Acres was located in farming country just outside of Clarksville, the town her aunt and uncle had called home. The view on the road to the institution consisted mostly of fields and trees, with the occasional barn or house for variety. When they got close to their destination, Sydney woke Nigel to act as navigator.
"It's very peaceful," he commented.
"Peaceful, yes," Sydney agreed, "But which way do I go at this fork?"
He squinted at the directions. "Left...I think..."
"Nigel!"
"Left. Yes, definitely left, Syd."
"Are you sure?" she asked, giving him one of her sternest looks.
"Yes, I'm sure. Go left."
She turned left and, about fifteen minutes later, they came across a huge white wooden sign that said, "Shady Acres...come and rest for awhile."
Sydney pulled into a long and rambling dirt road. It was rutted and full of snow, so they were bounced around like toys as they followed it. Trees grew close and, in some places, brushed the jeep's windows.
"Are these people medical patients or deer?" Sydney complained as her head almost connected with the roof for about the fifth time.
Nigel snickered but stopped as he was thrown as close to the dash as his seatbelt would allow.
It seemed to take a long time before they saw a huge old farmhouse peeking through the trees. They went around one last turn and the whole house came into view. It was newly painted with a cheery replica of the sign at the end of the drive planted on the snow filled lawn. In front of the building was a cleared space with several cars parked in it.
Sydney pulled in her Jeep, noting faces gaping at her from the windows.
"Ready, Nigel?"
This was definitely not something Sydney was used to, and she had a minute of doubt. How was she supposed to talk to a crazy person—at least one who was not violent or pointing a gun at her, but was just lost? The former, she had lots of practice with, but she had no idea how to get answers from someone locked in his own world.
"Ready, Syd." He, at least, sounded confident.
She got out of the car, straightening her jacket and wondering if she should don her satchel. She frowned and shook her head at herself. What use would it be in a mental institution?
"Something wrong?"
"No, just thinking that bringing a crossbow into a sanitarium may not be the brightest of ideas."
"You're probably right," he agreed as the two of them headed to the walkway. It had been shoveled and salted, showing carefully placed path stones. Even so, Sydney stepped carefully. Her boots gave good traction, but in the winter that was no guarantee against a fall.
The steps and veranda were as clear and as well salted as the path. Someone had taken pains to make the place accessible. Cheerful too, if the wreath on the door and the Christmas lights around the building's frame were any indication.
Sydney took the lead, as usual, and pushed open the door into the reception area. Like many reception areas she had seen, it was white and beige with a big desk in the middle of it. The desk was cluttered with papers, stationary supplies, and a telephone. Behind it was a rotund, stern-faced woman with mouse colored hair and a round face.
She looked up at their entrance. "Yes?"
"I'm Sydney Fox. I called to inquire about one of the patients."
Suddenly, the woman smiled and the sternness melted from her face. "Oh, yes. I remember. We spoke on the phone. I'm Nurse Blackmore. You called about Nicholas Parker."
"Right."
"Do you know not one person has come to see him in the past twenty-four years? He had one visitor during his first couple of weeks here, and that was it. It's amazing that family has been found after all this time. You say he is your uncle?"
"Yes. He was married to my mother's sister."
"Melody."
Sydney was startled. "Yes. How did you know?"
"He talks about her a lot. Time is a little confusing for Nicholas."
She wondered if this would work for the good of their cause or against it. "You say no one ever came to visit him? No friends? No family?"
"No, just a young man when he was first brought in. I was young myself, and an intern. I remember the visitor because I thought he was handsome, but he never came again."
"Do you remember his name?"
"No." The nurse shook her head. "I never knew it."
Sydney wasn't surprised. "Is there anything else I should know about visiting my uncle?"
"No, not really. He's a model patient. Very sweet, but easily confused."
The nurse beckoned to someone walking by. This was a tall, slim, dark haired young woman whose age Sydney would place somewhere between hers and Jenny's.
"Yes?" she asked brusquely.
"These guests have come to see Nicholas Parker."
The younger nurse looked at them curiously. "Nicholas?"
"Yes. Can you show them to him?"
"All right." As Sydney and Nigel started following her, she added, "He never gets visitors."
"So we've heard," Sydney told her.
The young nurse led them to a lounge with a television, a couple of couches, and some comfortable chairs. Only one person sat inside, staring out of a large picture window, watching the snow. Or maybe he was watching something only he could see.
"Nicholas," the nurse said, "you have visitors."
He turned to face them, and Sydney saw hints of the man she vaguely remembered from so long ago. Nic was younger than she expected—she would put his age at about fifty—and he was still a handsome man. Looking at him, even in faded clothes with slightly untidy hair, Sydney could see what had fascinated her aunt enough to defy Isabelle. His dark hair was just barely touched with grey, and he had eyes of a blue so pale that they only had a hint of color.
When those eyes lit on Sydney, he asked in a soft voice filled with aching and longing, "Melody?"
Sydney knew that she, like her aunt and unlike her mother, resembled Isabelle.
"No," she said gently, "I'm Sydney, Uncle Nic. Do you remember me?"
"Sydney...Sydney...I knew a Sydney once. Wild little girl...she had the spark..."
Sydney looked at Nigel, who shrugged. "Little girls grow up."
Nic's eyes sharpened, and he regarded her more closely. "Yes, they do. I see her in you. The little girl...and I see my Melody. But it takes a long time for girls to grow up. How long, Sydney?...How long?"
She sat down and indicated that Nigel should do the same. Honestly, she said, "It's been twenty-five years."
The man's eyes opened wide. "Twenty-five years? I thought...She was here...here with me..."
"Uncle Nic, I've come for a reason."
"Of course you have," he said sadly. "I have no one...but she was here...I swear, she was here..."
Sydney tried again, "I have some questions. I need to know what happened twenty-five years ago. I want to let Aunt Melody rest."
"What happened?"
"Yes, I want to find out what happened to Aunt Melody, and I need to know about the coin."
"The coin! They can't find the coin." Her uncle suddenly became very agitated. "Don't let them find the coin, Melody. Hide it away. Don't tell anyone about it..."
Sydney reached out and put her hand gently on his arm. "It's all right. The coin is hidden where no one will ever find it. It's safe, but I need to know what it means."
He looked at her hand, then looked up at her, awareness of who she really was in his eyes once more. There were tears there too. Tears and a pain that sliced Sydney to the bone. "It's my fault, Sydney. My fault! If I wouldn't have given her the coin, she'd still be alive—she'd still be safe. I gave her that coin, and they killed her for it. I might not know anything else, I might not even know where or when I am most of the time, but I know that."
"Who are they?"
"The ones I stole the coin from. I should have left it. We were getting along well enough...I'm sorry, Melody. I'm so, so sorry."
"You stole the coin? Why?"
"Because I knew what it was the key to. The cougar, it told me, so I stole it. You don't steal from them, but I did. Melody paid for it..."
Sydney's hand tightened. "Who did you steal it from? What does the cougar mean? Did the words make sense to you?"
"The cougar will tell you. Listen to the cougar."
"I don't understand."
He beckoned her to come closer, so she leaned her head in close to his.
"Harrington," he whispered. Sydney still didn't understand. She looked at him in some confusion, so he patted her hand. "Listen to the cougar. It knows where you need to go. It's the key...the key to everything...Hide it, Melody. Hide it and keep it safe! Don't let them find it...if they find it, everything will be lost..." He buried his face in his hands. "Lost...she's lost...lost...and it's my fault...I shouldn't have stolen from them...lost...lost...lost..."
"Uncle Nic? Are you all right, Uncle Nic?" She put her hand on his shoulder, but he just kept mumbling, so she said softly, "I'm sorry."
She felt guilty for hurting someone so lost in his own mind, and she made a promise to herself to visit him periodically. First, though, she needed to find out who Harrington was, what exactly the cougar was supposed to be telling her, what happened to her aunt, and why the coin was the key.
She got no response with her apology, so she decided she'd interrogated the man enough. She indicated to Nigel that they should go. Something made her gently run her fingers through her uncle's hair soothingly. This seemed to help a little, and she felt slightly better as she went to tell the nurse at reception about Nic's distress.
Sydney was quiet as they made their way back to the Jeep, and Nigel didn't break the silence. She chewed over what Nic had told her, trying to make sense of it. She wished that she could have talked to him longer, that he had stayed lucid long enough to give her all the answers she craved. Sydney had a feeling they were all locked up there in his mind.
They were well on their way down the bumpy and rutted driveway when Nigel ventured, "So, what do you think it means?"
"I have no idea. We know that the whole thing had something to do with Harringtons—whoever or whatever they are. And the cougar supposedly talks. My uncle stole the coin for what it represented, and my aunt was kidnapped for the same reason. It's not much to go on, but it's more than we had. I'm going to get Karen to see if she can find out who or what the Harringtons are."
"He wasn't what I expected," Nigel admitted. Sydney risked a glance in his direction as he continued, "I expected someone...um..crazier. Someone not quite so, well...sad."
"Yeah," Sydney agreed. She wondered why her father had never told her that Nic was still alive.
"If I ever get locked up in one of those places, I hope someone loves me enough to come see me."
She smiled at him. "Don't worry, Nigel. I'd always come visit you."
"Thanks, Syd."
Her answer was obscured as another bump in the road threw her forward against her seatbelt, cutting off her wind.
"Ow!" Nigel exclaimed. "Maybe you should slow down."
"I'm only going fifteen miles an hour."
They were just quitting the driveway when the light snowfall started to get a little heavier. Sydney noticed that the wind was also starting to pick up, and the sky was starting to darken.
"I don't like the looks of that," she commented.
"It is coming down harder than it was supposed to. Maybe it's just a squall and it will die down by the time we get to the highway."
"I hope so." Sydney turned on her wipers and eased onto the road, which was only slightly more well kept than the driveway. It had been relatively clear when they arrived at the sanitarium an hour earlier, but now snow and slush were starting to pile up.
As they drove on through the country roads, the snow got worse instead of better. Sydney was reduced to following the quickly filling tracks of a vehicle that came before her. Around them, everything was crisp and silent. It felt as if the two of them were the only living creatures in the world.
Visibility was soon so bad that mid afternoon could have been night. Everything was grey and white, unending. Sydney squinted, trying to follow the tracks.
"Syd," Nigel said softly, "maybe we should stop."
"And go where? We're in the middle of nowhere."
His hand was holding the handle above his head, his knuckles white with the strength of his grip. "Maybe one of the farm houses will put us up."
"I can't see houses, Nigel. I can barely see the road ruts."
"Well, I can't even tell if we're going the right way anymore...and the Jeep is sliding like it's got runners."
"Are you scared?"
"Yes!"
She didn't even dare to take her eyes off the road to look at him. "It will be fine."
"I'll believe that when we're no longer trapped in this white hell."
Sydney sighed. "Fine, Nigel. I'll pull off and we'll see if we can find somewhere to weather it out."
She put on her blinker, not that she believed anyone would be able to see it, and pulled to the side. She knew if shelter wasn't immediately evident, they would have to stay with the Jeep, otherwise they could wander off into the snow and get lost. She did not want to freeze to death.
"It was only supposed to be light snowfall," Nigel complained as he slammed the door and hunched against the wind. Almost immediately, snowflakes clung to his eyelashes and lightly dusted his hair.
"You should know by now, Nigel, that people lie, cheat, and steal."
"I still don't have to like it."
He was standing with his arms crossed, hugging himself, with his ungloved hands stuck in his armpits. Sydney had brought her gloves, and she slipped them on, blinking rapidly as soft but cold snowflakes brushed her cheeks.
She went in the back of the Jeep and grabbed her satchel. Nigel lifted his eyebrows in question, so she said, "We're going to need the cell phone...and the GPS."
"The GPS?" He looked startled.
"There's no way I'm leaving the Jeep without it. We're going to want to get back." She then handed her bag to Nigel. "Here, you take the reading. I'm going to see if I've got any blankets in the back."
"Do you think we'll need them?"
"From the looks of this place, chances are we'll need to shelter in a barn. The houses are few and far between."
Bringing the blankets turned out to be a good idea. They walked with the wind and snow at their backs for fifteen minutes before Sydney grabbed Nigel's arm in relief. There, barely visible through the now heavily falling snow, a barn appeared like a beacon on a foggy night.
Nigel looked at her, blinking rapidly in the flakes that gusted against his face.
"There," Sydney said, allowing her wildly blowing hair to get in her mouth.
He squinted, then said excitedly, "A barn."
Sydney nodded and gave him a gentle push. He stumbled, so then she grabbed his jacket to keep him upright. He clutched at her, and together, they left the road and made their way through the calf high snow towards the barn. As they neared it, she noticed that it was faded but well made and still sturdy. She wondered if there were any animals inside. Not that it mattered. At this point, she gladly would have shared shelter with Fabrice Deviega.
Nigel put on a burst of speed and reached the barn first, throwing open the door and peering inside, but waiting for her before going in.
"Nigel, get inside," Sydney gasped, once more tasting hair and snowflakes.
He guided her in before turning and pulling the door closed. There was a board that went across from the inside to lock it. Nigel quickly lowered it before snatching his hands away and blowing on them.
After flicking on the light, Sydney rubbed her arms through her clothing and looked around the barn. There was a small and dusty window, but it didn't shed much light through the dirt and the blinding snow.
There were no animals in the barn, but Sydney didn't think this was permanent because she could smell the fresh scent of hay and the faint odor of farm animals. There was a haymow with sticks of hay showing over the edge near a ladder to prove it was still used for storage. There was also some hay on the ground floor, in the stalls, and near Sydney in the main area. A pitchfork leaned jauntily against the wall. The wind wailed outside, sounding like it wanted to tear the barn apart. She couldn't believe how quickly the storm had come.
"You all right?" she asked Nigel.
"I will be," he said, knocking the snow out of his hair and brushing it off of his shoulders.
"It's not quite so cold now we're out of the wind." She followed his example, then took off her wet jacket and gloves. "My shirt's not so bad, but my pants are soaked. I think I have a couple of warm pajamas in the bag with the blankets. Do you think you'll be able to fit into my bottoms?"
Nigel sighed. "Sadly, yes."
She threw him a smile and started digging through the bag.
"Have you been stranded before, Syd?"
"Why?"
"Well, I don't know many people who carry blankets and pajamas in their cars."
"Everyone should. You never know what'll come up—especially if you're on a hunt. There's an extra pair of clothes in here, but only one pair of socks."
"The blankets should be enough to keep my feet from freezing."
"It'll be downright cozy. Let's change, and then I want to call Karen and Claudia."
The two of them changed quickly, not even bothering with modesty. They were so used to changing in front of each other that there was nothing new to see anyway. Even so, Sydney found herself sneaking a peek at Nigel as he slipped his shirt over his head and stood there shivering in his underwear She had told him once that he had a nice body, and she meant it. Most of the time, she tried not to notice, but once in awhile she liked to reap the benefits of having such a good looking best friend.
"How do I look?" Nigel asked once he was completely changed.
Sydney picked up their wet clothes to hang over the nearest hay bale, but paused to study him. He had chosen the blue pajamas, which were a solid, light color, and didn't look bad on him despite being made for a woman.
"You know, Nigel, I think they look better on you than they did on me."
"Very funny."
"How do I look?"
She twirled, knowing black flannel pajamas with clouds, stars, and moons on them weren't exactly her best look.
"Ravishing as always."
Sydney laughed before continuing on to the haystack. She spread the clothes out evenly, hoping they would be dry by the time the storm blew over. While she was near the window, she peered out into the snow. Their tracks had already been covered over, and it didn't look as if the flakes had any intention of stopping for a long time.
"I think all weather people should be hung," Nigel commented, combing his fingers through his hair.
"Well, they do say it's not a perfect science. Where's the phone?"
Nigel picked up the satchel and handed it to Sydney. She dug around, frowning when she finally found the phone at the bottom.
Karen answered on the second ring. "Fox residence."
"Hey, Karen."
"Sydney, hey! How'd you make out?"
"Good. I'll get to that in a minute. I have something I need you to look up. First, though, I have news of another type. How's the weather down there?"
"It's snowing but not too badly," Karen said suspiciously. "Why?"
"Nigel and I ran into some weather."
"Are you all right?"
"Sure...but we're snowed in, and I don't know how long until we can leave again. I'll call you later and let you know if we'll make it home tonight or whether we'll have to wait until tomorrow."
"Which I hope we won't. We don't have any food with us, and I'm starting to get hungry already," Nigel commented.
Sydney put her hand over the mouthpiece and said, "There's always hay."
"What did you say?" Karen demanded.
"Nothing. I just wanted to call so you and Claudia wouldn't worry. Did you find out anything about the coin?"
"Well, nothing about the cougar, but the words on the back are part of a poem written about a hundred years ago...At least, there's a poem with those words in it."
"That's something, anyway. Print it out in case it's not coincidence. I also want you to look up something else for me. See if there are any Harringtons in Clarksville or the surrounding area...and see if there's anything that connects them to cougars or catamounts."
"Will do, Syd. Anything else?"
"No. I'll fill you in on the rest when we get home."
"Okay. Talk to you soon."
Sydney flipped the phone closed and stowed it back in her satchel. Though the barn wasn't as cold as outside, the air was still chilly. Plus, Sydney still felt cold from walking in the snow.
"Let's make a little nest in the hay," she said.
"What?" Nigel's eyes widened.
"We're going to be here awhile. We need to get warm. If we wrap up in the blankets and surround ourselves with hay, we should be able to keep warm enough."
"Oh, that makes sense," Nigel conceded.
In all, there were four blankets in Sydney's bag. Instead of giving each of them two, she decided they'd be warmer if they shared the blankets and sat close together. Nigel's poor bare feet, which felt like icicles, would especially benefit from the warmth. The hay proved to be a great insulator, despite being scratchy and pokey.
They sat there in silence for awhile, soaking up the heat from each other's bodies. With the warmth and silence, it wasn't long before Sydney started to feel drowsy.
"Nigel?" she said.
"Hmmnn?" He sounded as sleepy as she was.
"Why do you think my parents left him there all alone?"
"Nic?"
"Yeah. I know they didn't really like him, but..."
"In your mother's case, it could have hurt too much. Maybe he represented everything she'd lost."
Sydney sighed, laying her head on Nigel's shoulder. "Maybe. I liked him, though. Despite all the things my father said about him, he was always kind to me. I don't like the thought of his being all alone."
Nigel put his head against hers. "We'll visit him, Syd. You and me."
She felt warmed by his use of the word 'we'. It was nice to know that she had someone to count on—that she didn't have to do it all alone. "What was she like? Your mother, I mean."
"She was very strong. Very independent," he answered after a moment. "She was a great Mum, and I always thought she was the most amazing person in the world. Despite the fact that Preston was nearly perfect, I never got the feeling that she loved him more than me. In fact, she made me feel very special."
"You don't talk about her much."
"No," he admitted. "Sometimes it still hurts."
"Yeah. I know what you mean," Sydney said softly, thinking of her own mother.
"How about your mother, Syd? What was she like?"
Sydney smiled, though Nigel couldn't see it. "Completely opposite to Dad and me. I don't think there is much of her in me at all. She was tiny and delicate. I used to think she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen...I remember her standing in front of the mirror, brushing her long, dark hair, and being so proud she was my mother.
'She was soft spoken and never raised her voice, and she was a sweet and gentle person. There are a lot of things I've forgotten about her, but I'll never forget how loving she was. When I lost her...Well, I had a rough couple of years. First, I saw Alistair Newell get murdered, then my mom died. I went a little wild."
She chuckled sadly, remembering how depression had driven her to do some things she regretted.
"If it weren't for my dad, I probably would have turned into a statistic somewhere along the way. When I was thirteen, he sat me down and we had a long talk. I found out he was hurting as much as I was, and it helped. I remembered my dream of becoming a relic hunter, and I thought how proud my mom would be if I was bringing joy and beauty back into the world."
"The pain never really goes away, does it?"
"No."
"I think your mother would be pleased that you're solving this mystery."
"Yeah. I think I'm doing this as much for her as I am for Aunt Melody or myself."
"Do you have any theories as to what the cougar might mean?"
"Not a one," she admitted, "But if I can figure out what Nic meant by 'listen to the cougar', I might know what to do next."
"I'm sure between the three of us..." Then, he paused as if in thought, "...all right, four of us, Claudia does have a good idea once in awhile, we can figure out some of the puzzle and what our next step will be."
"Speaking of Karen and Claudia, did you have a nice Christmas, Nigel?"
"It was wonderful. I can't remember having a nicer Christmas since Mother died. I didn't know it would be so great just to sit around and visit with friends. As you know, I'm a solitary being, but I had a lot of fun."
Sydney laughed lightly. "Despite being caught under the mistletoe."
"Girls!" he huffed in a little boy way that made her laugh harder.
"Don't tell me you didn't enjoy it—especially pinching Claudia."
It was Nigel's turn to laugh. "You should have seen her face, Syd. Getting laid out by the pillow afterward was worth it."
"Nigel, sometimes you're worse than she is!"
"Bite your tongue."
They lapsed into silence then, and Sydney felt herself relaxing into sleep. Nigel was warm and comforting against her, a soothing presence. The whole thing felt rather surreal, so as she dozed off, it felt like drifting from one dream into another.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
"Watch me, Mom! Watch me!" Sydney called as she pumped her legs and reached for the sky.
"I see you, honey," her mother replied, a smile on her face.
Sydney felt as if she were flying as the swing went higher and higher. Then, when the swing was moving upwards, faster than she could even comprehend, she let go of the chains and her little body soared up into the air. This was her favorite part of swinging—the moment when she was actually airborne, flying as free as any bird.
"Sydney!" She heard her mother exclaim as her body came back down to earth, landing on running legs.
"Wasn't that great, Mom?" she asked, beaming.
Her mother hurried over. "Are you okay?"
Puzzled, Sydney shrugged. "I do that all the time. I love to fly."
"All the time?" Rosemarie sounded slightly breathless, as if she had been running.
"Sure. It's fun. My friends do it too. Well, all but Peony, but she's a chicken."
Rosemarie's hand went to her shoulder. "I don't think you should do that any more, Sydney."
"Why not?"
"Because little girls don't have wings, and when they go up, they have to come down."
"Okay," Sydney said, but she knew at the time that it was a lie. There was no way she could give up the wondrous feeling of soaring through the air.
"Good." This made the worry smooth from her mother's face. "Let's go home. I think it might rain."
Sydney didn't understand the problem. Rain was wonderful to play in—it cooled you when you were hot, and the puddles splashed cheerfully when stomped in. Even so, grownups all seemed to run inside at the first sign of it, almost as if death were falling from the sky instead of water.
"Just five more minutes?"
"I don't think so, but when we get inside, we'll make some cookies."
"Okay!" Sydney loved baking with her mom. She reached up and took Rosemarie's slightly larger hand and squeezed. The hand squeezed back.
Happily, she skipped next to her mother as they walked to their home. A feeling of love and security filled her and a voice inside her mind, one older and wiser, told her that soon memories like this would be precious.
Then, the sky unexpectedly began to darken. Sydney's hand tightened on her mother's, and the child who was often a fearless daredevil was suddenly deeply afraid. Thunder rumbled and the wind picked up, whipping at their hair.
"Mom!" she cried.
"It's all right, Sydney."
Arms picked her up and held her close. Sydney clung to her mother's body, feeling its warmth and the rise and fall of the chest pressed to hers.
The fear deepened. "Don't leave me Mommy!"
If her mother answered, the words were lost in the wind. The thunder got louder and louder, shaking the ground beneath Rosemarie's feet.
Sydney screamed, knowing the thunder wasn't really thunder. It was time and fate. Knowledge beyond her years came suddenly to her mind, things a six year old should never know.
The wind picked up as well. It tugged at her, trying to pull her from the loving arms holding her. She tightened her arms and wrapped her legs around Rosemarie's waist. The wind pulled harder, determined to win the struggle.
"No! You can't take her from me! I won't let you!"
The wind paid no attention. Instead, it gave one last wrench, and Sydney felt her arms and legs break free as she was ripped from her mother.
"Mommy!" she screeched in despair.
-----------------------------------------------
Sydney woke with a start, fear rolling in her belly, and sweat dripping from her forehead and down her chest.
"Syd?" Nigel asked sleepily.
"It's all right," she said over the wild pounding of her heart.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, go back to sleep."
He yawned, pointing to the window. "I already slept the afternoon away. It's dark."
"You're right." She rose, wiping damp hair from her forehead. Nigel was looking at her critically, so she sighed and admitted, "I had a bad dream."
"Crazy rivals with guns or endless pits of doom?"
Sydney felt a smile tug at the corner of her mouth. "Neither."
She peered out the window, feeling the chill coming off of the glass. The snow wasn't falling as thickly as before, but it was still more than she should drive in. In the darkness, it made everything seem still and silent, almost like a painting.
"Call Karen and Claudia," she said. "We should probably spend the night. It's still coming down out there, and we'll never find our way in the dark."
"All right, Syd," he replied, but didn't move to do so. After a pause, he asked seriously, "Do you want to talk about it?"
"What? The dream?" He nodded. "No, I don't think so...but thanks."
"Are you sure?"
She hugged herself, more chilled from the dream than the brisk air. "Yeah."
He watched her for a moment before getting up and stretching first his back then his legs. "There's one problem about spending the night here—well besides the hard floor and the scratchy hay, I mean."
Sydney started walking to stretch her own legs. "What's that?"
"I'm hungry, and we don't have any food with us."
Sydney indicated the hay with a waving hand. "Be my guest, Nigel."
"Uh...I don't think I'm quite that hungry yet."
"Oh, wait. I might have some of your protein bars in my satchel. It's not much, but it's something to put in your belly until morning."
"Great!" He lunged across the room to scoop up the satchel, painfully knocking her crossbow against his knuckles. Sydney was still using the old satchel because Karen's present was at home under the tree. "Flashlight...mirror...hairbrush...phone...perfume...research...more research...money..." he mumbled, "...Aha! Five bars. That's two and a half each."
"That's not a lot for twenty-four hours of hunger. If I were you, I'd eat one and save the other for later. It's only," She looked at her watch, "seven o'clock. That's what I'm going to do."
He nodded and was about to close the bag to call Karen when he said, "Hey, there are cards in here. Do you want to play? It'll pass the time. I've had my full of napping."
"Sure." Anything to drive the awful dream from her mind. "What do you want to play?"
"Anything but poker!"
"Why not?" Sydney asked, going back over to the hay and flopping down before wrapping one of the blankets around her. "We could play strip poker."
"It's too cold for strip poker."
Sydney was disappointed with his sensible answer. She was hoping to make him blush.
"You're no fun."