Dangerous Dreams: A Novel (59 page)

As the tech attached another electrode cup to her head, Allie said, “I feel like a voodoo doll stuck full of pins. What do all these things do?”

Ginger, the technician, who looked to be in her late twenties, said, “Well, all these electrodes on your head measure brain activity by picking up electrical signals from your brain’s neurons and transmitting them to the polygraph computer and the digital printouts. And these two by your eyes measure the electrical potential, or difference, between the front and back of your eyes, the front being the cornea, which is positive, and the back being the retina, which is negative; so when your eyes move, like during REM sleep, the voltage changes get picked up by the electrodes and sent to the computer, so we can track your eye movements. It’s kind of the same principal for the heart electrodes on your chest . . . and also these I’m putting on your legs. Good that you wore shorts.”

“Question. Since I’ve never been able to sleep on my back, how do I get from side to side without pulling everything off?”

“Verrrrry carefully. The less you move the better, but I realize you can’t control it when you’re asleep. So if you happen to be aware that you’re rolling over, just be real careful.”

“Ginger, I don’t think this is gonna work. I can’t deal with all this stuff on me. I’ll be too self-conscious to fall asleep; and even if I do, I roll over twenty times a night and will probably pull some of these obnoxious little widgets off when I do.”

“Well, most folks don’t have any trouble with it, so let’s give it a try. Punch that little button over there if you want me to come in. Otherwise, I’ll be monitoring things at the main terminal, and Doctor Dressler will be at the remote in his office. Now, are you ready for a test run to see if it all works?”

Allie smiled. “I guess so, but you better not take any pictures of me like this.”

Ginger chuckled. “No problem. Okay, I’m going to go out and turn everything on; you just lie still and think pleasant thoughts, and I’ll be back in ten minutes or so.”

“Okay, but hurry. I really need to sleep.” Emily, I’m coming soon.

At 9:30 p.m., Allie punched the call button, and Ginger walked into the lab. “I can’t fall asleep. How long do I have to do this before we give up and do the pill? I
really
need to get to sleep.”

“Well, that’s up to Dr. Dressler. Let me go ask him.”

When she returned several minutes later, Ginger said, “He wants you to try a little longer. He’d much prefer to get pure data . . .
pure
being without any sleep inducement. Can you give it another shot?”

“I guess . . . if I have to. God knows what I’m missing by screwing around all night like this.” She rolled to her left side, stared at the wall for a moment, then closed her eyes; saw Emily being raped by the Panther, then pounded by his stone hatchet until she lay bloodied and still. She rolled carefully to her right side, again closed her eyes, replayed the same scenes.

At 10:52, Allie rolled onto her back, stared at the ceiling. Damn it! I knew this was gonna happen. Who knows what’s been going on with Emily all this time. This sucks. I’ve had it. She held the call button down until Ginger entered the lab. “Ginger, I don’t want to kill the messenger, but I need to get the hell to sleep. So would you please go tell the doc that if he doesn’t give me a damn sleeping pill or two right now, I’m walking out of here and going home.”

“I’ll tell him. But you know, you’re probably trying too hard, and your frustration is exacerbating the problem. Your data readings show a lot of anxiety.” She looked at her watch. “But at this point, you definitely need a pill if we’re going to get any data tonight. I’ll be right back.”

Ginger returned with a glass of water in her hand. “He says
uncle
. . . take a pill.”

“Thank God. They’re right there on the table.”

Ginger handed Allie a pill then the glass of water. “No more than a sip or you’ll need to pee, and then we’ll have to start all over again.”

“Can I take two pills?”

Ginger snickered. “Nooo. These beauties are high test. You’d be out until tomorrow night if you took two.”

Perfect. “Okay, thanks.” She handed the glass to Ginger, laid back, stared at the ceiling for ten minutes; visualized everything that had happened to Emily, from her arrival at Roanoke to their encirclement by Savages in the forest; wondered if she was alive, if any of them were alive; then rolled to her left side, closed her eyes. At first she saw nothing, but then the Viking ship, with Bjarni at the tiller, came into view. She opened her eyes. Wow . . . why’d I see that? She closed her eyes again, willed a protective field around her mind to deflect incoming thoughts, commanded her unconscious to let Emily live, let her find happiness, let her . . . let . . .

Chapter 14

T
ryggvi stood at the aft right of the dragon ship, manning the tiller, which consisted of a vertical rudder attached to the outboard side of the ship, ten feet fore of the stern, and a handle that extended about five feet inboard at a square angle from the rudder. Bjarni sat on the side of the ship, in front of him, his feet on the floor, his right hand gripping the top edge while his huge left hand made a spread-fingered cup shape. “And that’s how big her tits were, but she squirmed so hard I could barely keep my hands on them. And I tell you, by Freya’s beauty, instead of enjoying my company as she should have, she screamed like a demon the whole time. No! English wenches are no match for our Viking girls, who know a good man when he mounts them.”

Tryggvi studied him with a serious, contemplative look, a mild smirk behind his thick beard and mustache. “Well, Bjarni, perhaps it was the suddenness of your approach that upset her. Perhaps instead of just ripping her clothes off and jumping on her, you should have told her how beautiful she was . . .
then
ripped her clothes off and mounted her.”

Bjarni raised his bushy eyebrows, curved the ends of his lips downward. “Do you really think so?”

Tryggvi punched him in the shoulder. “Of course, you big oaf. Every woman likes to hear how beautiful she is, even if it’s not true . . . but especially if it’s from a stranger who’s about to take her. But it’s also true that my opinion of English women is not unlike your own . . . except for one.” He looked out at the gray sea to his right; sensed his heart pulsing with sudden warmth, longing, regret; visualized her stunning dark hair and brilliant, penetrating blue eyes, her small, lithe body; he reflected on the depth of
their love, their mutual despair at parting. Yes, she could have come with him to the northland, been his wife, let him help raise the child he knew she carried. But her religion, that mental distraction that possessed the English like a curse, had precluded her following him, even though he himself was no great believer in the Norse gods. True, he thought, he could have taken her against her will, but he’d loved her too strongly to do so. And now her memory tormented him every day; made him long for her touch, her smile, the warmth of her body, a glimpse of his child; made him lament his kindness. He smiled as he recalled teasing her about her strange dreams and—

Allie’s heart fluttered; her body twitched; her eyes flashed open then immediately closed.

Tryggvi nodded to himself. I must return and find her one day . . . perhaps when this voyage is done . . . take her and the child with me . . . no matter what.

“and,” Bjarni continued, “I’ve often wondered how many children I have in England.” He thought for a moment, counted on his fingers. “Could be as many as twelve. But far more important than the number is the way in which I’ve improved the handsomeness and intelligence of the English people.”

Tryggvi smirked at him. “ Bjarni, I doubt there’s enough space in England for so many handsome, intelligent people as you might father, so—”

Emily lay on a pile of dry grass covered by a blanket. She opened her eyes, looked briefly at the ceiling of the grass-mat cottage, then answered young Henry Harvie’s sputtering by climbing to her feet, walking to his makeshift stick crib, lifting him into her arms, and rocking him back and forth.
She glanced at Elyoner, asleep on a grass bed beside Virginia’s crib on the other side of the room. Thank God she’s getting some rest. “Shhh, little one . . . shhh now. You’ll be fine.” Henry rooted for her nipple, which he had located beneath her smock. His face grew ever redder as he tried unsuccessfully to suckle through the cloth, until he finally closed his tiny eyes, took a deep breath, and emitted a loud, demanding cry, followed by another breath and an unrestrained, red-faced tantrum. Emily rocked him faster, kissed his forehead. “Shhh, little Henry. You’ll wake Ellie, and she’s very tired from feeding the two of you all night. Come now, be a good little lad.” Lord, what am I to do? Perchance I shall start nursing today.