ARC 3: NIGHT TERRORS
Isssue 9: The Dreams
“Peter, dear, you’re going to be late for school. Get out of bed this very instant!”
Peter rolled over, rubbed his eyes and sat up. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be down for breakfast in a second. What’s for breakfast?” He walked to the top of the stairs and looked down to where Aunt May stood at the bottom.
“It’s your favorite, Peter. Blueberry Waffles. Come and get it!” She smiled beautifully and held out a plate of waffles towards Peter, and the smell wafted up the stairs. Peter licked his lips and started down the stairs, but as he walked, he noticed that he didn’t seem to be getting any closer to aunt may. He quickened his pace, and yet she still stayed so far away from him. He turned around and saw hundreds of stairs behind him now, the door to his room was well out of sight. He turned back toward Aunt May and tried to run to get to her, but she seemed to be getting farther and farther away. He ran faster, but she just moved further away from him. As she finally disappeared from view, Peter let out a scream of “NOOOOOOO!!!!!” in despair. As he uttered the cry he opened his eyes and sat up in bed. He was covered in sweat, and his body trembled desperately. He looked around at the room he was staying in, trying to get his sense of reality back.
Calm down, Peter. You’re in Ben’s apartment. You’ve been staying here almost two weeks. Aunt May is gone, that was just a dream; it wasn’t really her. It was just a dream. The tears started roll as the emotions took over his thought. As he sobbed on his bed, he heard a knock at the door and Ben walked into the room.
“Had the dream again, didn’t you”
“Of course,” Peter managed through the tears, “it’s the same
thing every night. Each time though it feels more and more real. The first time I had it, I knew the whole time it was a dream. Tonight, I thou . . .” his voice trailed off and he swallowed hard before continuing. “Tonight, I didn’t have a clue! I really thought she was still alive. I didn’t realize until I couldn’t get to her that it was a dream. Even then, I thought that if I could somehow get to her, everything would be ok. But as I ran toward her and she grew further and further away, I got that same feeling I had in the waiting room. It was just an overwhelming helplessness and pure frustration at not being able to do anything to help her out, and a fear that somehow, I would lose someone else that I loved. After Uncle Ben died, I didn’t think there was any way life could get worse, but now she’s gone too.” He shook his head, tried to clear his thoughts. “I know there was nothing I could do, but it doesn’t make me feel any less like I’m a terrible human being for not saving her.”
Ben knew he didn’t have the answers Peter was searching for, so he just pulled his cousin in close and let him sob himself to sleep on his shoulder.
At Professor Xavier’s mansion, Mirage looked around the gigantic room, and marveled at how the empty room lined with so many stainless steel squares could convert so seamlessly into a deathtrap that constantly tested the X-men’s mettle and strengthened their crimefighting skills. “So,” she muttered softly, “this is the danger room. I’d heard some stories about it, but to actually be in, it’s just too cool.”
*Oh, dear, If you stay on here with us, you’ll get to do more than just be in it, you’ll actually get to have practice sessions in here.* “Professor, no offense, but will you PLEASE stop doing that! It is really freaky!”
*You’ll get used to it soon enough dear. Now please come this way, I have some people you really need to see.* Mirage shook her head in annoyance at the Professor’s refusal to speak aloud and followed him into the next room. Although she had been badly hurt during the battle with Blackout, her problems had been caused by a large collection of various minor injuries, while she actually sustained no major injuries, not even broken bones. Xavier couldn’t fathom anyone taking the beating she had endured and coming out as relatively unscathed as she was, and suspected that she had a minor healing factor helping the recovery process and preventing broken bones from staying that way for more than a few hours.
As Mirage looked up to see who the Professor had wanted her to see, she gasped in surprise at her mother and Blake standing there. As her mother hugged Vicki tightly, Xavier spoke.
“Good evening, Mrs. Malone, Blake. Good to see that you could make it out here.”
“Victoria! It’s so good to see you!” Mrs. Malone gasped as she hugged her daughter tightly to her chest. “We didn’t know where you’d gone. You were missing over a day before this kind Professor Xavier called to tell me you were at his private school. He assured me you were safe, though you’d been hurt and needed a couple weeks to recover. He asked me today to come pick you up because you were nearly fully healed. Although, I have no idea why you would be at a private school so far away from our house, especially injured so badly.”
“That’s actually the main reason that I called you all the way out here. You see, I think you two and Victoria have something important to talk about.” The Professor turned to Mirage. “Would you like to tell her, or should I?”
*She needs to know you are a mutant, Mirage. There can be no more lies, not after you almost got killed.* PROFFESSOR! ARE YOU EFFING CRAZY? THEY CAN’T KNOW! MY MOM WILL KILL ME! AND WHO KNOWS WHAT BLAKE WILL DO! Professor X winced as her screamed thoughts hit his brain.
*Fine then, I’ll tell them.* Back in New York City, Nick sat in his apartment, still wondering about his conversation with Ben two weeks before.
I still can’t believe I snapped like that at him. He’s like my brother, and even more so now that I know about his mutant ability. I shouldn’t have expected him to tell me about his ability, and my reaction probably proved him right in keeping it a secret. Maybe I’m just jealous of him. Even though he’s blind, he can still go out and use his mutant abilities to help other people. My abilities, though, they can’t help anyone. All they can do is inflict pain on others. Nick sighed, and he remembered something a man had once given him, back in high school. A man in a wheelchair had come to his house, shortly after his mutant ability had manifested and resulted in the death of the girl he’d been kissing. Nick hardly remembered anything about the man in the wheelchair himself, but their conversation still echoed throughout his mind. “Good Morning, Nicholas. My name is Professor Charles Xavier, and I’d like you to come with me to my School for Gifted Children. I realize you’ve recently experienced some changes in your life, and I understand how stressful they can be. At my school we will help you through this time in your life and hone your unique talents to help other people.”
“You don’t know anything about me!” Nick had screamed at him. “You can’t help me, and my ‘abilities’ as you put them can’t help anyone. The only thing they can do is cause pain and suffering for others. I’ve touched three girls since my ‘abilities’ manifested. Just three! And yet one is dead, another broke her leg attempting to run away from me, and the third tried . . .” He laughed incredulously, “The third tried to kill me! Don’t talk to me and tell me that you know what’s going on, you can’t!”
“Very well, Nicholas. If that’s how you feel, I won’t push the matter for now. But rest assured, I will keep an eye on you and there will always be a spot open at my institute for you.” Xavier reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a small business card with a number on it and handed it to Nick. “If you ever change your mind and want to help people, or just need someone to talk to about your difficult time, call this number and I’ll be there to help you.”
Nick had taken the card and closed the door, then set the card in a place where he could get to it if he ever wanted it. He’d moved a couple times since then, but had always made sure to keep the card. Now he got up and walked over to where he kept it, and pulled it out. He studied the number on the card, and reached for the phone. Halfway to the phone, he stopped, put his hand down, and put the card away for another day.
At school the next day, Peter struggled to concentrate in his classes. In first period, he failed a quiz for the first time he could recall, he had to go back to his locker three times before third period, and he nearly even forgot to eat lunch. Finally, he arrived at his last hour class and sat down, wondering why English had to be the last period of the day. As Miss Weaver droned on, he tried catching the attention of either Jason or Brian, who were both in the class with him. Brian seemed to be drawing something on a sheet of paper, and he was staring at it intently, ignoring both Miss Weaver and Peter. Peter shifted his focus behind him to Jason, but his friend was asleep. Peter turned his head back toward the front and tried to pay attention to the teacher, but the lack of sleep that had plagued him all day caught up to him in English too. He tried his best, but eventually his eyes started to close and he began to drift away.
“Peter, dear. What are you doing! Get up, it’s time for school! Lazy boy, I can’t believe I raised someone like you!”
Peter looked around his room, but didn’t really comprehend what he was seeing. “What? I’m AT school! I’m in English class. What are you talking about?”
“Peter, you aren’t at school! You’re in your bed. Now get up before I beat the tar out of you.” The voice clicked in Peter’s mind.
Aunt May. It’s Aunt May. But it can’t be, she’s dead. And even if she wasn’t, she never sounded like that. He looked around, he was in his bedroom.
It’s the dream again. I know it’s the dream. How do I know it’s the dream? I don’t know, but yet it is. Only, it’s different. There’s no blueberry pancakes this time, this time she’s threatening to spank me. She NEVER threatened to spank me. And she’s at the door this time, every other time she was at the bottom of the stairs. Peter looked up, and saw Aunt May’s face clearly for the first time. Her right eye was gone, rotted away. Her skin was falling away, and her hair was only attached in patches, it looked as if she’d been rotting for over a week. His eyes opened wide in shock.
Oh my God! It’s not just a dream anymore. This is no dream. It’s a nightmare, and I don’t know how to wake up!