Travis rubbed the back of his neck and adjusted his beat up baseball cap, twisting it tightly onto his head. Once upon a time, the beat up Minnesota Twins hat had covered up his receding hairline. Now it served to avert his eyes from the Sun, as Earth's star could no longer be fully trusted. His eyes were a verdant and intense green, sunken and deep, often appearing to stare off at some yet unseen thing. 

Those eyes burrowed into Julie, and she did not like it. She kicked at a loose rock and shook her head. "I can't do that Travis. Maybe I could if you told me what was going on, because from where I stand it sounds like you're about to do something very, very unfortunate." Travis bit his lip and looked down. "Oh, you think I'm going to drive off and shoot myself, huh?" 

Julie stared at him sadly. "Yeah. I do. And you know you wouldn't be the first, or the tenth." "It's not that, Julie, really, it's not. I have to go do something, and I just need to know someone would look after Catherine if something happened to me." Julie's expression softened, her features a mix of pity and anxiety. "Please tell me what you're going to do. You know I'd do anything for Cat, but that girl needs her father, and I don't want to give you a free pass to go get yourself killed."

Travis took a deep breath, carefully preparing his next words. But it was Julie who spoke next. "This is about Izzy, isn't it." Travis nodded. "How could it not be?" "Travis," Julie said, "You know this world is an unpredictable and evil place. What makes you think you can find any answer at all? And if you do find an answer, will it do you any good?"

"I don't know. How can I know? But I've got to try. I know it's selfish, but I can't stop. There's something waiting for me when I sleep. I think it's the same thing that took her from me. If I don't stop it I know it'll destroy everyone I love. I know I sound crazy, hell, I know I probably am crazy, but I need to do something, anything." 

Julie frowned, deep concern furrowing her brow. "I don't like it but I guess I understand. I can see your mind is made up. But think about your daughter before you do anything too idiotic. Waking up to what she woke up is traumatizing enough. She doesn't need her father driving off and getting himself killed." Julie sighed. "How long will you be away for?" 

"If I'm not back in 48 hours, assume the worst." Travis said, barely above a whisper. "Travis, you're a reckless asshole and a fucking idiot. I expect your deadbeat ass back here tomorrow." Travis returned a weak smile. "Thank you Julie. I mean that." He adjusted his cap again and walked off towards his car. His legs shook as he made his way down the long dirt driveway, tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

He slid into his worn out old Subaru sedan, resting his forehead against the steering wheel. He took several deep breaths, trying to steel himself against the waves of emotion flooding through his body. Pain, loss, guilt, anger, determination, they all spun within him like intermingling tornadoes, throwing his emotional center about like a ragdoll in the wind. After a moment, he collected himself.

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While he dare not look at the sun, it was an uncharacteristically sunny spring day, and the soft beams filtering through his windshield were warm and reassuring. He looked over his shoulder into his backseat. Several jerry cans of gasoline, long saved up in anticipation of this trip, littered his back seat. They would allow him to travel thousands of miles if need be, or turn his car into a massive Molotov cocktail. 

He dug around in his glove compartment and found his old Queen, Greatest Hits CD. He popped it into the car's radio, and cranked up the volume. Travis pulled the handgun tucked in his waist and lay it on the passenger seat next to him. He knew he was unlikely to encounter anything he could shoot; if anything, the bullet would be for himself. But there was little good in thinking about that now. 

He sped off down the old rural road, little more than a badly maintained patch of dirt. Most roads were in dire shape, but the dusty streets of his childhood were always bumpy and uneven. In a way, the continuity brought a sense of comfort. Travis drove for hours, slowly moving the black sheet he used to avoid looking at the Sun around his car every thirty minutes or so. Before long, he was deep into an R2 zone.

Myths and rumors abounded about these marginal places and the hardened people that lived within them. Travis didn't know how much of the hearsay was true, but he was determined to expose himself to as little extra risk as possible, and did not venture into any buildings, abandoned or otherwise. Every few hours he pulled over, excused himself in the woods, ate some jerky or stale bread, and dumped more gasoline into his old vehicle. 

Few other vehicles shared these roads with him. Federal control was weak enough in his hometown, and this far out, supply lines were almost non-existent. There was nowhere to go, no reason to go places, and no gas or supplies to go with. As he drove deeper into the region of weakened reality, the world became increasingly strange. 

Trees would randomly be devoid of all leaves, or have so many they resembled a puffed up creature of waving green. The temperature would change by several degrees in a matter of minutes, with no changes in elevation of weather. Everything felt off, and slightly less predictable. Travis understood why the residents of these R2 regions were so characteristically unstable and angry. If he had to live like this, he would be too. 

Eventually, Travis approached his destination, the empty fields and forests slowly giving way to urban development, or at least the remnants of it. The small city was a graveyard of asphalt and concrete. Travis had no doubts that some survivors lurked among the ruins, but few of the tens of thousands that had lived here still remained. There was no traffic, and Travis drove right up to the university research center, taking the college Dean's spot with a little bemusement. 

The sun was setting now, and the massive neoclassical building threw a long shadow over the landscape, dirty and ivy winding up its imposing structure. Travis pulled on his backpack, and took his gun and flashlight. He turned the flashlight on, and his safety off, and entered the College of Sleep Science.