Chapter 1
Sam groaned as he got up and immediately began to inspect his surroundings. It took him a few seconds to recognize the small room where he had arrived the previous day.
-Is everything okay? Faith asked, lying next to him.
Her eyes still heavy with sleep, she sat up to look at him with some concern. As she sat, the blanket that had covered her chest fell to her legs.
-Yeah, Sam muttered, his voice still thick. Just a bad dream.
The explanation didn’t offer much comfort to Faith, who continued to watch him closely.
-This isn’t the first time you’ve woken up like this, she said. First, you mumble something, then you thrash around before waking up as if you’ve just encountered the devil himself.
-It’s nothing, Sam repeated, trying to control the slight tremor in his hands. I just have a few nightmares from time to time. Nothing serious.
She didn’t say anything more, but her gaze spoke volumes. Waking up in the middle of the night and groaning in distress wasn’t nothing.
-If you want, I can mention it to Dr. Hanson.
-That won’t be necessary, the detective grumbled as he swung his legs off the bed. Thanks anyway.
With one hand, Sam grabbed his pants lying amidst his things at the foot of the bed to pull out his watch. The hands showed half past two. The detective let out a frustrated sigh. Once again, the night was bound to be long. With extreme weariness, he lay back down, his body facing Faith, who hadn’t taken her eyes off him.
-You can turn it off if you want, he said, pointing to the bedside lamp.
-No need, I’m not sleeping anymore.
Sam indeed noticed that her face showed no trace of sleep.
-Do you want to talk about it? Faith asked after a moment of silence filled the room.
-It’s just a bad dream, nothing important.
The young woman’s eyes narrowed in displeasure.
-One of many. I’ll point out that you’re looking more and more like a mortician.
Sam thought she was joking, but when he looked at himself in the mirror on the secretary in front of them, he had to admit she was right. Beneath his tired eyes, dark bags marked his skin. He heavily rested his head against the pillow and stared at the ceiling. His thoughts relentlessly pounded him with subliminal images. He saw, in flashes, plants with long leaves and shapeless faces. He also heard screams, gunshots, and other sharp noises, much less audible. He saw the biome again, and through it, the vast forests of Long Hood.
-It’s because of the scientific gala, he finally said to clear his mind. The one with the inventor, you know? Marcellus Roche.
-The one responsible for...
-Yeah, he interrupted her. That one.
