Author's Note: Thanks for reading, and sticking with me so far. :) This is the final chapter to the Nightmares and Naivety Series. Reviews are always appreciated, they make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, especially if they come with constructive criticism. =)

NOTE: This chapter is a bit violent, and there are some parts that are pretty scary. (it's part of Abby's dream) That's why I rated it Teen. If you are frightened easily, please don't read this. Thanks for your understanding. =)

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Survivors Fanfic - "Nightmares and Naivety" Part III

"The Football Nightmare"

Abby regained her composure and continued driving, listening to a cheerful, bubbly track on a CD that had been inside the car she had taken from that woman...Abby shuddered when she remembered running out of fuel in the middle of nowhere, and having to steal a car with a dead woman in it, her lifeless eyes staring up at her, but not seeing anything...Abby told herself that the woman wouldn't mind her taking her car, since she obviously didn't need it anymore, but she still couldn't shake the feeling that she had done wrong by taking from someone living or dead. When Naj had asked her if she thought the people that had previously lived in the house minded that the survivors lived in now, Abby told him no, but had her doubts.

Abby sighed. Even with the happy, carefree music she was playing, nothing she could do would make her think of anything happy. If she turned it on, she would think about how she had stolen the car. If she left it off, the memories of her nightmare would plague her until she could sleep no more. The dream she'd had last night was the scariest, most horrific nightmare ever. But she'd had it before. When she found out she was pregnant with Peter, the day he was born, the day he was diagnosed...Abby had become reacquainted with this dream, as if it were an old enemy. She called this dream "the football nightmare."

She had not really lied to Greg when she'd told him her recurring nightmares had ended. After the virus, whenever Abby closed her eyes she would be searching for Peter in a void of darkness, screaming his name as she passed all-too-familiar sights only to fruitlessly give up, over and over again. That was how the dream always ended, with her giving up. The football nightmare was different. Worse. This time, she'd actually found him.

Peter was not ten feet away from her, playing happily with the other boys. Football, Peter's favourite. Abby was crouched in the bushes, watching her son so intently, breathing in his every move. Peter grinned to himself slyly and his darling dimples showed on his focused face, he had a plan. Handling the ball expertly, just as David had taught him, Peter shot the ball through the legs of one of the other team's defenders and sprinted across the field to the other side, where the goalie trembled in anticipation. Peter had a breakaway.

Abby cheered her son on from her hiding spot, and was amused at his mask of sheer courage and determination as he drew closer to the goalie. You'd have never guessed he was a frightened, sickly little boy with leukemia now. He was as fit and healthy as Abby had ever seen him. Better, even.

Peter smiled triumphantly; everything was going according to plan. Preparing a mighty kick, he drew his right leg backwards and began to slow majestically as he aimed the ball. Abby raised her fists into the air, prepared to let loose a screech in support of her son.

Then, suddenly, there was a kink in the plan. Peter stopped in his tracks. His skin colour started to change to a sallow yellow, and beads of sweat started appearing, layering over mysterious bruises that had not been there a moment before. Abby's eyes widened as she watched what was happening to her son. Abby hoped it wasn't what she thought it was...Peter blinked a few times in stunned surprise and scratched his head, puzzled. Except, when he scratched his head, a huge clump of his hair came out.

Abby and Peter both gasped at the same time. They both knew exactly what was happening. Abby had made Peter recite the warning signs over and over again.

Peter was relapsing, at a ridiculously accelerated rate. In Abby's attempt to run down to be by her son's side, she was stopped abruptly. Looking down in bewilderment, she noticed in horror that she had been handcuffed to the large tree beside her, and was unable to move.

The concerned mother pulled away with all her might, but the strong metal would not give way. She was absolutely powerless to help her son. Abby looked up to find her son again but when she turned, her area of vision was clogged by a very large man. Suddenly Abby recognized him from the photo she had seen. Phil Emerson. "Where do you think you're going?" he demanded, trying to intimidate her. It didn't work. All Abby cared about was Peter, who was not faring well at that point. She craned her neck to check on him and gasped when she saw the extent of his suffering.

"PETER!" Abby screamed, but he couldn't hear her. He was so close and yet so far away...

Peter looked so frightened and was now turning gray. He had huge bags under his eyes, bruises everywhere, and no hair. He looked so small and frail, just as he had when he was in the hospital. He wore a grimace of pain and moaned softly, just loud enough for Abby to hear. When Peter dropped to his knees and fell face down in the grass, Abby screamed so loud she thought her lungs would burst.

"NO! PETER!"

Looking up at the smirking Emerson who was holding her hostage, she yelled hysterically, "Let me go to him! He needs a doctor! Save him! He's my son...He's my son..."

Emerson smiled evilly, which frustrated Abby even more. Then he picked her up, uprooted the tree she was handcuffed too as well. Abby fought as hard as she could, but the man had an iron grip.

Then he put her on the sideline, just out of reach of Peter, and still weighted down by the tree. So that she could watch him suffer a long and painful death, right before her eyes. He laughed maniacally, paying no attention to Abby's desperate wails. She pulled as hard as she could away from the tree, and called her son's name, but it was no use.

Just then, a dull rumble came up from the other end of the pitch. It was the other boys, both teams, pounding down the field like their lives depended on it. Except they were all clones of the same person. Abby stared wide-eyed at fifteen Najids wearing identical soccer uniforms, each emblazoned with a double zero. They all wore a stoic mask of concentration as they trampled over objects in their path like a herd of elephants. Abby turned back to Peter's limp body. It was a human stampede, about to crush her son.

"NAJ! Don't! Please! Not my son...not Peter!" Abby begged incessantly, like a broken record, but with no avail. They just kept coming...

all her strength, Abby tried to crawl over to where her son lay, so she could pull him out of the way, but the massive tree would not budge. And then, Abby watched in horror as her son's lifeless body was tossed around like a worthless rag doll, and thirty cleats trampled all over him. She heard a loud, sickening crack and a blood curdling scream that had to be Peter's. The Najs laughed as they killed him, it was a game to them.

"MUM! MUM!"

Abby buried her head in her hands and cried until she could have spent enough tears for two lifetimes. When she no longer heard the malicious laughs of the Najs, or the horrifying cries from Peter, Abby turned back to the tree that held her captive and realized that the handcuffs binding her were gone. The Najs had formed a circle around Peter, and stood as still as statues, waiting.

Abby crawled, her eyes blurred with tears, until she reached her little boy. His pained, stricken expression was permanently etched on his normally peaceful face, for there had been no peace in his death.

The overwhelming fear in his eyes had burned into Abby's mind, even once she had awakened the first time she'd had the dream, twelve years ago. The only thing that was different this time was that the football players had Naj's face, and the human obstacle was Phil Emerson. Everything else had been exactly the same. That didn't make it any less scary. Upon waking from the nightmare, all she could feel was guilt, because she had been powerless to save her son, yet she had been right there. She felt as if she had failed as a parent by not keeping him safe, even if it was in a dream. And because they had been separated as a result of the virus, Abby feared that something like that would actually happen to him, and she wouldn't know because she was so far away.

Abby pulled over by the side of the road so she could cry properly, now that there was no one around. No one except Greg knew about her nightmares, but she'd never told him about the football nightmare. She hoped to keep it that way. If the others relied on her to the extent that they did, like Greg said, Abby had to be strong and fearless, and put their needs before her own. She feared the others would distance themselves from her if they knew that she wasn't as strong or as brave and tough as they thought she was. They all suffered...Abby knew that. They just didn't know each other well enough to take comfort in confiding in each other.

Take Abby for example; the others knew she was missing her son Peter, but they didn't know he was afraid of the dark, terrified of spiders, homesickness and getting lost in the supermarket. They didn't know Peter suffered from leukemia, that his mother had become a hypochondriac on his "behalf," and stressed so much about him that she had suffered a miscarriage the year he was diagnosed. They didn't know he was a bright, talented, brave young boy who had stared death in the face and never blinked. And they probably didn't know that his parents, especially his mum, would literally do anything for him.

Abby didn't know the others as well as she'd like to either; she didn't even know what Greg did for a living before the virus, or how Al got to be so rich, or what Naj's childhood was like before he was forced to grow up prematurely, as a result of the virus. Don't ask, don't tell just isn't going to work. It's too close to "every man for himself."

She wondered what the others had lost, the things they had seen, and what they had been forced to forget. It was narcissistic of her to think that she suffered any worse than they did. Maybe they could help each other, move on and ease each other's suffering. They had survived the virus, but life was more important that surviving; one had to live. And one can't live if one is grieving. They would have to learn to trust each other, plain and simple.

Abby thought it over before she was interrupted by a siren that was coming from a large building she had never seen before...

THE END

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Author's Note: Well, that's it! I hope you liked it! :) Now watch the pendulum: *review...review...please review...*