I had it twice. The first time, I woke up in an absolute panic. It actually took me a minute to calm down and stop feeling like I needed a weapon. The second time I woke up perfectly calm, and thought, "That could make a cool story". So I wrote it down.

My head hurts... The sheets enveloping my body are damp with sweat... The light filtering through the window is orange and dim,weakened by the layer of dust on the glass. Each of my senses is dulled by the fever pulsing through my body, and the shadows in the room are swaying, which I know isn’t right, but everything is blurred so I can’t prove it. The shadows are bothering me now, staring at me. I attempt to sit up, to turn on my lamp, and I am blinded by pain. At the base of my neck, down along my spine... And my inner ears feel like they’re going to explode. Moving has awakened a monster of agony. I shriek, but all that escapes my parched throat is a low gurgle. I drop back onto my pillow, but discover there is no distance to fall, as I only traveled a fraction of an inch for my efforts.

I can hear quiet footsteps now, coming from outside my room.  I can’t remember what is outside my room.  Stairs maybe?  Are there other rooms?  The footsteps get closer, but I can’t pick out any detail with my muffled ears.  Where am I?!?  I’m in my room, I remember.  It’s getting harder to stay awake, but I feel like I have to see whoever is coming.  Maybe they can tell me what is going on.  But I know what is going on.  I am sick, very sick, and I think I am dying.  Heat is pulsing through my body, pounding in my head.  I have a feeling that I don’t want  to die, but the pain makes me long for silence.

A woman peers in, and I attempt to twist my body away in fear, but instead just hurt myself more. When she sees me, she hurries over, straightening my sheets, adjusting the pillow. I’m not as afraid now, but the bad feeling is still with, like something is wrong. I can’t remember what though. I try to ask her what is going on, but find I am still unable to speak. She puts a finger to her lips, shushing me. The shadows are staring at me again, and I twitch my arm at the lamp beside me, hoping she will understand what I mean. She glances at the light, and shakes her head.

“It’s almost dark.  We can’t have lights now.”

In a moment of clarity I realize that she is wrong: Lights are intended for brightening the dark!  I try to share this revelation, but can’t even find the strength to move my tongue.

“The power is out anyway”, she says.  Well of course it is, she won’t let me turn it on!

“How are you feeling?” she asks with an almost upbeat inflection, but even my grainy vision can see the sadness in her face.  I pick my brain futilely for the words to answer her question.  Even if I could I am unable to voice them.  She produces a glass of water from the nightstand, and gives me a few sips.  My sense of taste is not yet crippled; the water is almost unpalatably strong-flavored.

The light is dimming rapidly, faster than seems possible for the setting sun. I realize that I am falling asleep. The woman has left. That makes me sad, but at least the pain is fading away... Maybe I won’t die. Maybe it would be easier if I did.

♦

I am awake again, and not dead.  The pain is gone, and my thoughts are surprisingly clear.  I try to get up, but my legs don’t respond.  I can’t feel my body.  I can hardly move my eyes.  This horrifies me, and produces an odd sort of fear in which my thoughts are panicked but I can’t feel my heart rate increase, if it is beating at all.

I calm myself down, and examine the scene my eyes are settled on.  My room is dark, but enough moonlight is seeping in that I can make out the walls and ceiling.  My bed is in the back-left corner of my room, which allows me to see the hallway outside.  The hallway is even brighter, illuminated by the double windows on the wall opposite my room.  The woman from before is sitting in an armless chair, clutching a hunting rifle.  I can’t see the banister, but I know that she is peering over it, watching the front door downstairs.

I still can’t remember her name, or who she is, or what is going on.  And something is most certainly going on, I just can’t remember what.  I’m certain that people don’t normally guard doors with guns, but I also know that normal changed, somehow.  But how?  I want to scream with frustration.  My feverish confusion from earlier is gone, but my knowledge was given in exchange.  Panic sets in once again, as I wonder if I will ever recover, or if I will simply endure.  I would rather die than remain like this.

I hear a clunk, and something squeaking.  I turn my attention back to the woman.  She heard it as well.  She is aiming her rifle at the front door!  Now I hear rattling, like someone jiggling a doorknob.  I don’t know who it is or why they are here, but I know that this is very bad.  The need to flee is overwhelming, competing only with my shame at my uselessness.

The sounds continue, and the woman remains at her post, completely focused.  At least until she glances over at me.  I try to motion to her, speak, anything, but still don’t even know if I’m alive.  She dashes over to my bed, and throws a thin sheet over my face.  I try to scream again.  I need to know what is happening, but I have no power over anything.  Now things are being thrown on top of me!  Pillows.  The impacts disturb the sheet, and it flaps up over my face.  I can see again.  The woman has picked up a heavy blanket and throw it on me all bunched up.

She runs back to her post.  She has leaned the rifle against the wall, and is aiming a revolver at the door.  That’s good, I think.  Can’t remember why.  Three thumps shake the floor, and my guardian jumps with each one.  She is visibly sweating, and ghostly pale.  I want to help!  More thumping now, a little softer than before.  The woman crooks her neck, sighting in.  Something is about to happen.  The double windows behind her swing inward, apparently of their own accord.  She is so absorbed with whatever is happening downstairs that she doesn’t notice.  I scream, needing to warn her, but nothing happens.  I settle for screaming in my head as loudly as I can, hoping that some of it will somehow penetrate the outside world.

A black shape is edging towards the opening.  He is crawling on his hands and feet, avoiding casting a show. The shadow creeps in, timing his steps with the thumps from outside.  His form is bulky, but he moves with terrifying grace and silence.  There are a lot of straps and buckles hanging against his clothes, obviously intended to hold equipment, but they are all empty.  Only his belt holds anything, with a gun and knife clipped on opposite sides.  The weapons are frightening enough, but worst of all is his face.  Across his mouth is a weird node with two tubes attached.  An air filter?  His eyes are covered by a large pair of goggles, almost like shortened binoculars.

He is directly behind the woman now, and is pulling the knife from his belt.  I think I am sobbing, but neither the woman nor the ghost is reacting, so it must be in my head.  She is still unaware of the death approaching behind her.  He raises his knife, and in a fraction of a second, I see her gasp.  Perhaps some slight breeze alerted her, a creak in the floorboards, a moving shadow from the corner of her eye... It is clear to me that for a fraction of a second, she was entirely aware of what had happened, and that nothing could save her now.

The shadow stabs downward, plunging his blade into the gap between her neck and shoulder.  She falls soundlessly, until her body connects with the floor with a dull clunk.  The shadow glances around, looking directly into my small room.  If I could, I would have tensed up, expecting to meet my end.

Instead, he turns away, and I remember that I am covered in laundry.  The events are clouding my mind, becoming jumbled.  I know that I’ve just suffered a horrible loss, but can’t even remember who it is that is now gone.  I am now completely alone in whatever nightmare world we both inhabited.  My thoughts become cyclical, repeating the same questions but receiving no answers.  The corner of my vision is darkening, and it spreads, slowly blotting out the world.  I can’t remain conscious any longer.  I wish for no morning.