into the center square of the village that he became aware of the sounds. The crack of timbers breaking as they were consumed, the gunshot sound of glass exploding, the screams of the villagers. The soft crying of a lost child.
He knew this village. Every building, every person. He knew that just beyond the rise in the path was the river. He could walk through the fire again and again and never be touched. Because this village was a part of him, a creation of his mind and he was drawn to it night after night. No matter how he fought against the dream, it pulled him in, sucking him toward hell as surely as the fire crept toward the truck at the edge of the square and caught it in its grasp.
A sharp cry caught his attention. He turned and saw a teenage girl running from a burning building. A support beam creaked and tipped, then fell toward her. Jeff saw it happen in slow motion. He took one step, then another. He reached for the girl, determined to pull her to safety. He put out his hand.
She reached toward him in response. Slowly, achingly slowly, she raised her head until she could see him. Then her mouth opened wider and she screamed as he’d never heard another human being scream before. Sheer, soul-numbing terror.
She jerked away from him and ran toward the river. The support beam tumbled to the ground, narrowly missing her as she fled. Jeff took a step after her. Only then did he notice that all the villagers were racing away from him. They pointed and screamed, acting as if he were a threat worse than the fire.
An aching coldness filled him. Unable to stop himself, he walked toward the river, toward the small pool fed by the flowing water. Fire raged all around him, but he remained untouched by the destruction. People ran past him, screaming, darting out of his way. A mother raced by, a toddler in her arms. The small child cried when he saw Jeff, then ducked his head into the curve of his mother’s neck.
They ran and ran until he was alone. Alone and standing by the pool. And even though he didn’t want to look, he couldn’t help himself. He knelt by the still water and waited for the smoke to clear enough for him to see his reflection.
Then he knew why they ran, why they screamed in terror. He wasn’t a man. Instead of his face, he saw the cold metal features of a mechanical creature. A robot. A metal being not even remotely alive. Fire danced over him, but he couldn’t feel it. Nor did it hurt him. He couldn’t be burned or damaged in any way. He could only terrify
Jeff woke in a cold sweat, the way he did every night after the dream. There was no moment of confusion. From the second consciousness returned, he knew exactly where he was and what had happened. He also knew he wouldn’t sleep for several hours.
He rose and, in deference to his company, pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt. Then he left his bedroom, prepared to wander through the house like a ghost. Silent, alone, living in the shadows. He tried not to think about the dream, but he was, as usual, unsuccessful. He knew what it meantthat he didn’t see himself as human. That he considered himself little more than a machine of destruction. But knowing the truth of the message wasn’t enough to make it stop.
As he moved down the hall, he felt a change in the night air. Not a disturbance, just something
different. He could sense the presence of his guests.
Unable to stop himself, he headed in the direction of their rooms. Maggie’s door was partially closed. He stood in the hallway and looked in on her.
She slept in the center of the double bed, a small figure guarded by her menagerie of stuffed animals. She was curled up, the blankets tucked around her, sleeping soundly, breathing evenly. A dark curl brushed against her cheek.
He remembered her trust, the sound of her laughter, her delight at the speakerphone in his car. She was a magical child, he thought gruffly, as he noticed one of her fluffy cats had tumbled to the ground. Silently