Lawrence crept through the hallway. Cement walls and floor, cold air from deep underground, a pervading stench of dust and things forgotten. Despite the suffocating darkness, sickly white light shone from the fluorescent bulbs overhead. The lights eliminated all shadows. Lawrence flitted from corner to corner, trying in vain to remain unseen. The smell of old basement filled his nose.

He heard a sound. He froze. He stood in an intersection. Ahead of him was the exit, behind him lay the maze. The sound came from his left. His heart hammered in his chest. He realized his butt clenched, but he didn’t care. The sound came again, like a footstep scraping against the floor.

Lawrence’s heart skipped a beat. He risked a look ahead of him. The room was right there. A colossal cement-and-steel door, square-shaped, sat recessed into the wall. It was closed. It would take time to open. Too long. He looked down the hallway from the direction of the noise. He heard another shuffle.

Lawrence bolted. To his right, opposite the noise, down the long tunnel. His bare feet pounded the floor. All semblance of stealth forgotten. He crossed another intersection. To his left, a turret opened fire. Lawrence ducked as bullets whizzed past his head like a swarm of angry wasps. He dove into the opposite tunnel.

There, a box. A crate, light brown with a fine layer of gray dust along the top. Lawrence kept running. He came to another intersection. No turret this time, just a green door leading to an elevator. He grabbed the corner as he ran. He used his momentum to swing himself around. He scrutinized the hallway from which he'd come. There, all the way down at the end, was the monster.

It was a head lying on the floor. It lay sideways, with its ear pressed against the cold cement. Its dark, empty eye sockets stared at nothing. The head disappeared behind the wall. Lawrence saw a shadow move. It stepped out from behind the wall. It was not a humanoid, yet it was three dimensional. He should be looking straight at it, but all he saw was a shadow. It had two red eyes burning in its face like embers. It saw. Forward, it stalked.

Lawrence fled. His feet pounded the floor. There, another crate. This one had an opening in the front. Once, it housed an animal. Lawrence skidded to a halt. He heard a quiet whimper. A second crate next to it, this one occupied. The cage door was open. The attack dog inside could have ripped his throat out in two seconds. Lawrence did not hesitate.

He crawled inside the empty crate. He curled up on the floor with his back pressed against the wall. He had pajamas on. An old shirt, cotton pants, no weapons, no armor, no poncho. He really needed to repair the poncho.

The dog went silent. Lawrence heard many animals breathing. A rat skittered over him. It huddled in the corner space formed by the two walls of the crate and Lawrence’s back. Lawrence lifted his head. Other crates sat nearby, most of them occupied. All attack dogs. All starving. All afraid.

The entire hallway went silent. Lawrence held his breath. His butt clenched. The air dropped several degrees. All the hairs on the back of Lawrence’s neck rose. He dared not move. He heard a foot drag on the floor. A clink of chains. The shadow stopped next to his crate.

One moment it was all silent. The next, Lawrence heard tearing steel. The dog howled. It barked twice, squealed. Lawrence heard a thump, and the poor creature whined. He heard jaws crunch bone. The creature took its time eating.

After an eternity, the monster left. It continued down the path Lawrence would have taken. He peered through his fingers. The shadow limped down the hallway. Its belly was distended as if pregnant. The creature had a noticeable limp. It meandered down the hallway. It kept sniffing, as if it lost the scent.

Lawrence tracked its progress from the cage. The space stank of dog. The creature stalked to the next intersection. There were no dog cages down those tunnels. The creature sniffed hard in each direction. It made a dissatisfied noise before wandering away. Lawrence let out the breath he’d been holding.

Slow and silent, Lawrence crawled out of the cage. He tiptoed to the elevator. He pressed the button. A klaxon blared. The sound shattered the silence. Lawrence jogged down the hall. He turned the corner and dashed back to the big door. He kept swiveling his head. He didn’t see the monster. He couldn’t hear anything besides the alarm announcing to everyone someone was trying to leave.

He turned the corner. To his immense relief, he did not run into the monster. The big door sat in front of him. Lawrence ran the width of the room. He slapped the big red button on the wall. Another klaxon blared, louder than the first. This one was accompanied by a spinning light high above the wall. Lawrence ran back to the wall adjacent to the entrance. He pressed himself into a corner behind a barrel.

It wasn’t a big barrel. He couldn’t hide inside it. It was not much better than hiding under a cardboard box.

The shadow entered the room. It stood in the doorway.

Lawrence froze. The monster stood close enough to see him, but Lawrence was ninety-degrees to the side. It did not look in his direction.

“Hey,” a man shouted. “This way.”

Three men walked out from behind the still-moving door. Old steel gears protested as the door pushed out. They wore combat gear. They had guns. They leveled their weapons at the monster. The monster moved. They fired.

Lawrence jammed his fingers in his ears. Thunder filled the room. Screams followed. The monster cut the men to pieces with its bare hands.

The door stopped moving. The klaxon stopped. The elevator klaxon had stopped too. Lawrence knew he had thirty seconds before the elevator doors closed. He’d never make it now. The monster could outrun him. It was a predator. Predators were faster.

With the door open, Lawrence heard industrial fans running. Utter darkness emanated from the door. Lawrence’s eyes could not adjust. However, he saw a solitary emergency light from around the corner. The brilliant white light illuminated an old hallway. Paint peeled from the walls. The floor needed sweeping. The smell of dust and forgotten things emanated from the square of darkness.

The monster entered the darkness. The area right in front split off into two directions. Lawrence heard footsteps approaching. A group of mercenaries walked around the corner. They had night vision goggles. Some had flashlights or lasers affixed to their shotguns. Their light illuminated the shadow monster with burning eyes standing nearby.

More thunder. Lawrence made himself as small as possible. Buckshot peppered the barrel. From the mercenaries, screaming ensued. When the noise died, Lawrence peered around the barrel. He saw the monster disappear down the left hallway, under the emergency light.

Lawrence counted to thirty. When the monster did not reappear, Lawrence crept out. He pulled night vision goggles off a decapitated head. He wanted shoes and a machine gun, but he didn’t have time. Worse, he knew he was outmatched. He needed to leave. He grabbed a shotgun with a sling attachment and slung it over his shoulder. He stuffed a handful of shells into his pocket.

He entered the dark. He took the right-hand path. He came to a corner and turned left. He passed under a yellow emergency light. In most settings, such would be a beacon of hope and safety. Here, Lawrence hated it. He ran crouched over with the gun pointed at the floor. He was not in the light for more than a moment. He passed through and came to an intersection.

His goggles let him see the three armored mooks ahead of him. They faced away—thank God. Their postures were relaxed. They had NVG’s. Lawrence looked left and right. Empty, but the left path connected to the shadow’s path.

Firecrackers popped far away. The mooks went on high alert. Their shoulders tensed. Their knees bent. Their weapons came up. They took off in the direction of the shots fired. They didn’t sprint. They went at a faster pace than the monster’s unhurried stride.

Lawrence slung the shotgun. He turned off the laser sight. Looking around, he grabbed one of the crossbeams holding up a tower. He hoisted himself up. He didn’t know what they were called, precisely. In engineering, builders would put pieces of steel at alternating right angles between two parallel lines. This created strength. Almost all structural engineering required it.

Vast walls of these structures filled the space, as if the builders had been constructing something important, but then they abandoned it halfway through. Lawrence held onto the beam above him. He spread his big toes from his little toes and wrapped his feet around the poles. It was poles and I-beams. All of them covered with dust and rust.

The structure walls had been laid in a simple grid. Lawrence had the impression something was supposed to—it did not matter. Lawrence refocused.

He climbed higher and higher. He had his spider prowess. No webslinging or crawling over ceilings yet. He needed his spider legs for those stunts. But his climbing prowess was somewhat decent. Even before the Program, Lawrence had always liked climbing.

He climbed all the way to the top. He saw the shadow’s burning eyes as it stalked the place. It stayed away from the horde of mooks spilling into the area, but it still hunted. For the mooks, it seemed every last one had body armor. Most carried machine guns bigger than Lawrence.

Lawrence slowly made his way along one wall. He found a pipe stretching between this one and the next. He clung to it on his way across. In this manner, Lawrence was able to cross the room in relative safety.

He began to take a perverse sort of glee in his lack of shoes. Surely having them would mean he’d have less grip per foot. It would make sneaking a lot harder. But he wouldn’t get any steel splinters. And his feet would remain clean.

Lawrence became aware of the vents pumping fresh air into the space. He heard a klaxon blare. Another big door opened from the outside. There was no welcoming committee this time. All the mooks were busy fighting someone else. Lawrence kept moving. Below him, a group of five not-mooks entered the area. They moved with purpose.

Lawrence saw one of them plug a car battery and a set of jumper cables into a circuit breaker. With the connection made, they gained access to a pair of smaller, airlock-type doors.

“Doors are open,” one of them said. He had to shout to make himself heard over the ventilation fans. “Boss one is through here. Follow me.”

Lawrence found the elevators in the next quadrant. This side of the facility had one pair of blue doors leading to freedom. Armed adventurers camped it. Armored mooks swarmed in from all sides. A furious firefight was underway. Lawrence stopped climbing to watch.

Grenades tossed. Tracer rounds and laser sights danced. Someone tossed a smoke grenade right into the adventurers’ midst.

“Advance,” one of the mooks bellowed while raising his fist. He and those behind him stopped. A storm of furious shooting ensued. The mooks hid behind corners while the adventurers emptied their magazines.

The lead mook lowered his weapon. He made a series of complicated gestures too quick for Lawrence to follow. Three of the mooks threw grenades.

The elevator dinged. The adventurers reloaded. The grenades went off. Explosions made ears ring. Lawrence heard screaming. The leader mook motioned. He and all the rest advanced down the hall. On the opposite side, a similar wave of mooks advanced.

“Don’t let them in,” someone screamed. More shooting ensued.

“Twenty seconds to leave,” someone roared. “Doors are closing. Get inside.”

A gust of air from a vent blew the smoke plume sideways. Lawrence saw the team huddled inside the elevator. A man stood on either side of the doors, inside. They shot at those mooks opposing them. They didn’t seem to be trying to hit anything. Rather, it was the mere act of bullets flying which kept the mooks from getting too close.

“Suppressive fire,” a mook said. “Anybody have a grenade left? Toss it in there. Use a sticky.”

A horn blew from the elevator. The doors began closing. The adventurers switched to sidearms. The mooks, no longer caring about their lives, advanced. Several of them took hits. A thrown grenade ricocheted off the doors. Bullets flew through the gap. More bounced off the steel and shot away into the dark. The doors closed.

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The shooting stopped. The mooks reloaded.

“Wounded, get to interrogation,” one of the mooks ordered. “Everyone else—.”

A klaxon blared from the opposing side of the room.

“Another elevator,” the mook shouted. “Run.”

The army dispersed. From his position, Lawrence saw squads converging on the opposing side of the room. He didn’t see a group of adventurers; there was a solid wall in the way. He saw shacks scattered in the middle of the room. Pipes and vents large enough to fit people snaked under debris piles. Lawrence saw someone emerge from a vent. They had a bulging backpack. Someone else followed.

The pair snuck up behind one mook. The guy in front raised his weapon. Lawrence heard a loud ping, and the mook dropped. It was a silenced shotgun. The pair made their way across the room. They left through the big door Lawrence had entered.

By the other elevator, a gunfight got underway. Lawrence heard a quiet beep on the edge of his hearing. He looked down. Under the emergency light, the elevator’s control panel was lit. Lawrence looked both ways. He remembered to unclench his butt. He began making his descent.

The shadow walked under the emergency light.

Lawrence froze.

The shadow stopped. It looked down. Bodies, beginning to pixelate. Weapons, remaining. The shadow studied the scene. It reached for someone’s discarded helmet. The helmet disappeared into green pixels. The shadow lets its hand drop. Turning, it walked back the way it came.

Lawrence tracked its movement. He kept one eye on where he thought the shadow was and one eye where he moved his feet. He made it to the floor. He crouched behind a naked steel pillar. The elevator was in an alley set along the outside wall. Directly in front was a wide, squat building with a flat roof and no discernible purpose. Lawrence thought it existed to provide cover for escapees.

It funneled attackers down narrow hallways, creating bottlenecks. Lawrence surveyed the room. He couldn’t see the shadow. He heard the gunfight well underway.

“Warning,” a cool female voice said over the intercom. “The cleaning gas will fill the bunker in five minutes. Anyone not native to the bunker will be pixelated and recycled. Please make your way to one of the emergency exits at this time.”

Lawrence tapped the button. The klaxon roared. Lawrence spotted a dead adventurer. They wore no armor. Just a long-sleeved tunic and a helmet with NVG’s. Lawrence grabbed their backpack and some explosives left behind. He scurried up the pillar and back to the roof. He checked the weapons. Reloaded and ready to go.

He stood tall on the roof, but next to the pillar. It provided only a modicum of cover. He heard gunfire erupt from the direction of the airlock doors.

In the backpack, he found a pile of thousand-dollar bills. It also held an assortment of random items, the kind people needed for fetch quests or item recipes. Chemical jugs, a Barbie doll, a vinyl record, a bongo drum, even some tubes of toothpaste. Lawrence emptied the bag but took the cash. He also took a sidearm and the owner’s primary weapon. He didn’t recognize the rifle. It had a custom, impractical camouflage pattern, two weapon sights, a third mounted on the side, and some other generic stuff.

He raised his head. A group of adventurers charged through the room in his direction.

“Elevator’s comin’. Let’s get out of here,” one guy whooped. He rounded the corner. “Nobody’s here.”

“Aw,” said one of his friends. His tone changed to something more friendly. “Hey, if you’re hiding, come out. We promise we won’t kill you. We just want to leave.”

Lawrence did not move. From his vantage point, he was invisible. He couldn’t see into the adjacent alleys. Below him, the team waited.

“Are you friendly?” a quiet voice called.

“Yeah, we’re friendly,” the team said as they moved behind cover, weapons raised. “Just tryin’ to exfil.”

A woman crept around the corner. Lawrence could tell because she was like him. She had no armor, no weapons. She wore normal street clothes. Her hands were up. Her eyes were wide, hair a mess. She looked absolutely terrified.

“Do you know what’s going on? How did I get here? Where are we? Who are you? Do you—hey!”

One of the men grabbed her. Lawrence aimed his stolen rifle. The elevator dinged.

“Warning,” a cool female voice said over the intercom. “The cleaning gas will fill the bunker in one minute. Anyone not native to the bunker will be pixelated and recycled. Please make your way to one of the emergency exits at this time.”

“Aw,” the group watching complained.

“No,” the woman screamed. “Nooo.”

“Hey, wait a second,” one of the guys said. “Does anyone have gas masks? We can survive the gas if we’re masked up.”

“Not for long we can’t,” one of his friends said. “Besides, doesn’t the gas penetrate the skin? We’d need like a hazmat suit or something.”

“Balls,” the guy lamented. “Well, you guys go on ahead. This won’t take long.”

The woman screamed. Lawrence waited. He didn’t hear pounding boots. The shooting had stopped. The woman screamed louder.

“If you’re staying, I’m staying.”

The elevator dinged.

“Me too.”

“Fine, we can hit the elevator again.”

“Darn it,” Lawrence hissed. He threw a grenade at the wall. It bounced off and rolled to a stop between someone’s spread legs. The explosion deafened.

Lawrence heard screaming. He lined up the scope. His arms shook. He wasn’t strong enough to carry the weapon’s weight. He shot one of the survivors in the chest. Another in the back. The last to fall was the one in front. Fortunately, the guy in front's body had protected the woman from the blast. Lawrence hopped down.

He sprinted over. He hauled the adventurer off the woman. She was screaming and crying.

“We need to get out of here,” Lawrence said. Dropping the gun—it was on a sling—he seized the woman’s wrist. He hauled her up. “Come on. The elevator’s closing. We gotta go.”

Lawrence wasn’t strong enough to carry her. He gave up. He ran for the elevator. The doors started closing.

“The cleaning gas has been initiated,” the cool female voice said. “All emergency exits will deactivate upon being touched by the gas. Please make your way to an emergency exit, or you will be pixelated.”

Lawrence jumped inside the elevator. He drew the shotgun. The woman followed a second later. Head down, arms covering herself, and crying. She pressed herself into the corner furthest from Lawrence.

“Don’t shoot,” someone bellowed. Footsteps pounded from the opposite direction. “Don’t shoot. I just wanna leave.”

“Lower your weapon,” Lawrence bellowed back. “We all just wanna leave.”

“It’s down.” A man wearing blue camouflage forced his way through the closing doors. He duel-wielded machine pistols. He saw Lawrence pointing a shotgun at his face and threw up his hands. “DON’T SHOOT.”

“DON’T KILL ME,” Lawrence screamed.

“DON’T SHOOT.” The man jumped to the wall opposite Lawrence. He kept his weapons pointed at the doors near the floor. “Please don’t kill me. We can leave together. Please don’t kill me. Please don’t kill me.”

“Nobody shoot,” Lawrence pleaded. He watched the guy but kept aiming at the door.

The doors stalled.

Lawrence and the guy froze. The female stopped crying. A pair of claws kept the doors from closing. Slowly, something dark forced the doors open. A pair of burning red eyes pushed their way inside. They saw the guy, the woman. They settled on Lawrence. They hungered.

Lawrence fired. Pellets peppered the monster at point-blank range. His ears rang.

The guy fired both his pistols into the shadow’s face.

“Die, die, die, die, die,” somebody screamed.

Lawrence chucked a grenade over the thing’s head. He switched to the rifle. He didn’t bother aiming. He leveled the weapon in the general direction of the opening. He flipped the setting from ‘pew’ to ‘pew pew pew.’ He squeezed the trigger.

He felt delicate fingers pry the sidearm from his pocket. The pant-less female—she could have been anywhere from twenty to thirty—leveled the gun at the shadow. She too, fired.

Lawrence knew how to reload the shotgun. It would take too long. The shadow kept coming. Lawrence threw his remaining grenades over the monster’s head. They rolled to a stop after bouncing off the wall. The confined space, or more accurately the cement and cinderblock walls, redirected the explosion. The shadow took the full force of the blows. It did not react. It didn’t even appear damaged.

“I’m out,” the guy shouted.

“Me too,” the woman wailed.

“I don’t--,” Lawrence fumbled for his pocket. It was empty. Helpless, he dropped the weapon. Stepping forward, he raked the monster’s face with his fingernails. The monster’s head snapped sideways. Thin lines of red appeared on its face.

Lawrence balled up his fist.

The other guy beat him to the punch. His fist sailed through the shadow’s face.

“This way,” a familiar-sounding mook shouted. “The ‘vator’s stalled. That’s new.”

“Look,” someone shouted. “What is that?”

“Kill it! Kill it now.”

The mooks, men after Lawrence’s heart, emptied boxes of ammunition into the shadow’s sides.

A seam split the shadow’s face. It was a vertical mouth running from chin to forehead. It had big, sharp teeth and a whip-like red tongue. Behind it, over the building, Lawrence saw a wall of glowing gray gas approaching.

Cursing, Lawrence stepped forward. He kicked the monster in its chest. It grunted. Lawrence kicked again, but raked down with his toenails. He drew a few lines of red on the monster. He punched it twice in the head. The monster snarled. It forced the doors open another inch.

Lawrence moved. He knelt under the monster. He moved his leg forward in the same motion as his arm. He punched upward, under where the sternum would be, with his fingers extended and overlapping like a spear. His nails pierced skin. He felt his hand pass through something warm and wet. Something heavy, wet, and warm thumped under his palm. The monster reacted by wrenching itself away. It bolted into the dark.

A dark helmet appeared in the opening. It had an oni pattern, a type of Japanese demon, on its face mask. It was the mook leader, Lawrence recognized. The mook leveled a machine gun.

Purple alien blood covered Lawrence's arm. He was pretty certain he had demon claws on his hands and feet. He wasn’t dressed like the adventurers. The guy in the elevator was hidden by the closing doors.

The mook leader lowered his weapon.

“Thank you,” Lawrence called.

The gas overtook the building. The doors slammed shut. The elevator rumbled. The floor moved. Lawrence felt them ascending. He reached for the rail. His knees threatened to give way.

“Wow.”

“That was pretty cool,” the guy said. “Who are you?”

“Lawrence. Doctor Lawrence.”

“I’m Joe.” The guy’s shoulders sagged. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Sarah, by the way,” the woman said.

The overhead light brightened.

“Do you guys wanna trade cards?” Joe asked.

“Sure.” The woman held out her hand. Joe pulled a business card from his pocket. He handed it over. The woman tapped the front with her finger. “I’ve got it. I’ll send you a friend request.”

She passed the card to Lawrence. “You wanna trade cards?”

“I dunno what that means,” Lawrence said. He took the card. He mimicked the tapping motion. Information flooded his vision. He dismissed the guy’s Status.

“Which faction are you with?” the guy asked.

“I don’t know what that is.”

The guy and the girl looked at each other.

“Well, I’m from Earth,” the guy said. Joe. Lawrence must remember his name was Joe. “I’m a civilian contractor they hired to explore this place. Sometimes, people wander in by accident through their dreams.”

“Does this place have a name combined with the word ‘lands?’”

“Yeah. The Dreamlands,” the guy paused. “How did you know?”

“I’m from a small colony in the Bloodlands. I think we’re founded by Earth. Your status just got uploaded to me. I don’t know about this card thing, but I know your name.” Lawrence looked from one to the other. “Joe and Sarah. The Dreamlands.”

“Bloodlands Colony? Didn’t they all die?” Sarah asked.

“I’m there now,” Lawrence said. “I just got back from the Stormlands. The Maelstrom, aka ‘Hell.’ I dunno what that shadow-monster was, but it looked like only I could damage it.”

“Weird,” Joe said. “My boss is gonna wanna talk to you.”

“So, I got here in a dream,” Sarah said. Her face focused. “If I die in the dream-world, do I die in real life?”

“Yes and no,” Joe said. “It’s a dream-world. You’re not really here. If you take an exfil like this, you wake up safe and sound and you get to keep all your stuff. But if you don’t, if you die in the dream, well, you lose all your stuff, but you also lose a few memories.”

“What?” Lawrence tuned in.

“Your higher brain functions are here. Tourists, like us, are vulnerable. Expats, Natives, and those with dual citizenship aren’t. They die? They respawn.”

“How do you get dual citizenship?” Lawrence asked.

“Why would you want it?” Sarah said.

Lawrence showed her the backpack full of money. Her eyes got round.

“It’s a gold rush,” Joe said. “The whole place is a frontier filled with goodies. The government is paying big bucks for these special blocks they can use as fuel in reactors. Getting them is hard. Other governments want them too. That’s why there are other teams.”

“I’ve got too much to do already,” Lawrence shook his head. “I can’t afford to jump into every new thing that happens.”

Joe shrugged. He fell silent. Sarah was already quiet. She faced away. The three of them stood in opposite corners. The light overhead got brighter. Lawrence closed his eyes. He saw the light through his eyelids. It overtook everything, becoming so bright he couldn’t see anything.

Lawrence gasped. He was in his room. On his bed. Door cracked. He heard voices downstairs talking. He sat up. On the floor sat a black backpack. On top of it sat a shotgun and a colorful rifle. Lawrence slid off the bed. He opened the bag. Inside was all the money. Lawrence gulped.

He pulled a manila folder from the bag. It had a single note inside.

My name is Sokolov. This is my story.

I was a member of the private military group known as Murkwater. I was a professional soldier hired by more than one Earth government to explore a new region of space. At least, that’s what they told us it was. Little did we know we were in for something far more terrible. Strange creatures and nightmarish abominations hunted us day and night.

We found shelter in an old bunker 100 feet underground. No one knows how it got there or who put it there. Some of the records I’ve found indicate it was the Soviets, but their empire fell decades ago. The technology we use to explore this world is bleeding edge. What happened here?

Lawrence copied the note into his journal. He took the gun and the bag downstairs.

“Hello,” Lawrence said.

“Hi Doc,” Diana rose from her chair. She came over to hug him. “I missed you.”

“We both did.” Scott also stood. He was smiling. He didn’t often smile. “We were just talking to Kourtnie and Josephine.”

“Do you want something to eat?” Diana asked.

“I just had a nightmare,” Lawrence said.

“Oh, that’s alright.” Diana finally noticed the rifle Lawrence carried. “Why don’t you put that down?”

“Stop.” Lawrence’s voice destroyed the good mood like a needle popping a balloon. “I just had a nightmare. I was in this dungeon. It looked like a factory. There was a monster chasing me. Hunting me. I met other adventurers. They were not very nice. Normally, I wouldn’t mind because I can summon weapons or change the dream. This time, that didn’t happen.”

His parents waited. Ferg and Josephine said nothing.

“I didn’t get out of the dream until I took an elevator. I had to ‘exfil.’ On the way out, I met some people who said the place was a frontier-world. Earth’s government was exploring it using mercenaries. They also said they thought our colony all died. So, either I’m still dreaming or somethin’s up.”

“It was just a dream,” his dad said.

“I felt pain,” Lawrence said.

“Sounds normal. Maybe you just need some rest, Lawrence?” Josephine added. Her voice sounded soothing. Lawrence looked at her. He imagined falling into those slender white arms and feeling all was right with the world. She was offering comfort. Lawrence felt a tickle in the back of his head. He took a deep breath.

“On the way out,” Lawrence said. “I brought something back with me. A bag full of money and a gun. And somebody’s business card.”

He threw the bag over the back of the couch. It landed on the middle of the floor. The zipper broke. Piles of green bills spilled across the carpet. Lawrence held up the weapon.

“That’s the bag. This is the gun. I’ve already checked the guy’s business card. I found his profile on LinkedIn. He’s a real person. From Earth. Somebody I don’t even know.”

Four pairs of eyes stared at the money. Lawrence saw it reflected in Josephine’s dark eyes. Ferg registered delayed shock. Dad was expressionless. Mom looked pale.

“So. Mom.” Lawrence put the weapon down. He crossed his arms. “What d’you know about the Dreamlands?”