With Fear or Without

60- What's Next?

The band of teenagers hung around the side of the building as unfamiliar, official-looking people came and went through the empty city. The six of them exchanged a few words, but no one else spoke to them much either. Only Ambrose seemed to acknowledge their existence at all, and even then he never told them anything of importance. He only came and went, making sure they were all sitting still before he disappeared again.

"So what happens now?"

Charlie was the most talkative by far, seeming to deal with the situation through distractions. Though, they weren't getting much from the people surrounding them. They sat with one leg propped up and the other outstretched, fingering and readjusting the hem of their pants.

No one answered. The only sounds were those inside the building and the continuous thumping of Remie's heel kicking against the wall as she leaned on it, her arms crossed.

Cleo yawned. She couldn't help it; she felt like she had been awake forever. Her eyes were heavy, her muscles aching. The next time she saw a bed she swore she would sleep for a week. That is, if she could get over her fierce rejection of the idea of sleep for fear of the inevitable nightmares that would visit her.

After silently wrestling with herself, Cleo decided to ask her own question. One that had been floating around in her head since... really since the first time she learned about the infamous Veil Breakers, but it seemed more adamant now. She braced herself first; she was afraid it was a stupid question.

"How can she even use them?"

Cassian paused his pacing, his shoes shifting on the pavement. Even the thumping of Remie's heel stopped. Cleo had broken their unspoken agreement not to talk about Maedrian, not so soon after. Most of them were perfectly content to sit in silence and never bring up the subject ever again.

"I mean, she has to get people to wear them, right?" Cleo continued. "There are only... eleven of them, too, it'd take forever to do that all herself."

"Dreams, Cleo," Remie said curtly.

Cassian threw her a concerned look that went unaddressed. "She can do pretty much whatever she wants in a dream. Especially against people who don't know any better. And you only have to wear it long enough to... see everything. Plus," he added, "you're forgetting that time works differently."

Well that seemed backward. Usually it was Cassian who gave them vague and unhelpful answers and Remie who told her straight what the deal was.

Still, it didn't fit right in Cleo's mental puzzle. She had questions that she didn't even know how to articulate. And Charlie's next comment certainly didn't help.

"So," they said, their eyes still on their incredibly interesting pants, "she could start tonight and we wouldn't even know?"

Cleo and Cassian exchanged desperate and wary looks, both searching for reassurance from the other and coming up short. Cleo suspected Charlie was right, but she hated them for bringing the thought to her mind, and even more for allowing the question to hang in the air. As if her head wasn't full enough as it was; playing the night over and over in her head. Wondering if there was something she could've done, something she could've said, that could've saved a life. Or potentially countless ones.

Nolan, grunting and groaning, began to push himself to standing in a rush. He was a mess, to say the least. Cleo's heart broke every time she looked at his puffy red eyes, nose raw from stifling, lips quivering in an attempt to save himself from further tears. The Nolan Cleo had gotten to know was all but gone, along with his glasses that were cracked and abandoned in the lobby. His shoulders slumped and he looked exhausted. Even having the relationship he did with his parents, Cleo couldn't imagine what he must be thinking and feeling.