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Laure swears her eyes were only closed for a second, but the next thing she knows she’s swerving into the hard shoulder to avoid an oncoming minivan with GB license plates.
Her breathing shudders out fast, and she forces herself to open her mouth and take deep, calming breaths. Cutting off the engine proves tricky as her hand tremors towards the ignition. Did she really fall asleep at the wheel? All those police seminars on safe driving and she nearly causes a traffic accident. But how? They were the only car on the road a few blinks ago...
She remembers driving through the little tunnel that leads across the village border and driving out to see the dam still on her right with the little tunnel up ahead. Laure can't remember actually successfully driving past the dam. So how are they here now, with not a drop of water in sight?
In the wake of the passing vehicle and the quiet of the engine, the blood rushing through her body is remarkably loud. Laure glances into the rear mirror and gasps. She is startled by the wide brown eyes staring solemnly back at her; Victor is awake. Her eyes flicker over and she notices that Julie seems undisturbed by the commotion. Julie’s hair obscures most of her face, but from what Laure can see, she’s fast asleep.
Laure forces her eyes to trail a sluggish path back towards Victor, who is sitting bolt upright and unblinking in the middle seat. Their eyes meet and Laure feels goose bumps prickle all over her skin. Even before she found out that Victor had been dead for the last 35 years, was a Revenant, his expressionless stare had unnerved her. He always looked like he knew things about you that you wouldn’t even admit to in the anonymity of a confessional booth, like he didn’t even have to read your soul to know what your deepest shame was.
She lets her eyes dart back to the motorway in front of her and focus on nothing in particular.
That she might be scared -- no, that she might be scared of him hurries to scuttle into her consciousness, but Laure derails that particular train of thought before it gains traction. If she allows herself to admit it the little tyke will know that he has more power over Laure than just the fear of Julie leaving her.
The place she thought was a hard shoulder is actually a lead-in to a road. There's even a sign warning of a concealed drive, and above it is a sign about proclaiming in little icons that a rest and eating area is only a half-kilometre ahead.
Deliberately avoiding Victor's eyes in the rear mirror, Laure checks for oncoming vehicles before restarting the car, straightening up, and driving down the discovered road.
The heat is getting to her, slowing down her brain movements and making her groggy, tiring her out, and she can’t have that. Laure figures that if she falls asleep, she’ll wake up dying. She’s seen what Victor can do; lulling a full-grown man to shoot himself in a slow, agonising death. She isn’t about to take that chance.
Laure still doesn’t know if Victor’s powers are limited to the town borders, or if the dam water Julie insisted on stocking up on is enough to inject the supernatural into wherever Victor finds himself.
Either way -- whatever the case may be -- Laure just knows that she has to stay awake. She moves to the motel room door where the thermostat for the room is located, and attempts to turn the heater off. No dice. Every press against the laminated button emits a small beep as the numbers decrease but the air blowing from the vent in the middle of the ceiling is no less warm than before she moved. In fact, Laure is pretty sure the damn thing is getting warmer.
She risks a quick glance at the bed where Julie and Victor lie. The curve of Julie’s back moves in a steady rhythm indicative of sleep. But Victor? Well, Laure can’t see the little demon tyke, but she’s sure he is not asleep, whatever it might look like if she went around the bed to check.
She tiptoes over to the single desk pushed against the other side of the room, and pulls the small light-weight wooden chair backwards towards the window. She’s dragging the chair on its two back legs across the thin carpets when it snags on nothing. Her feet get tangled up on whatever invisible trip-wire has befallen the chair and she topples to the ground with a muffled thud!
Laure freezes as she waits for movement from Julie or Victor. She’s half expecting the kid to sit up and turn his head owl-like towards her, large brown eyes unblinking and unnerving. Nothing happens. And it continues to not happen for a good two minutes, (possibly more; her own panicking heartbeat is all she can focus on. And Laure is not so sure she would have noticed if it was two minutes or two hours that went by.)
She realises that she has been holding her breath, waiting with trepidation for a moment that isn’t coming. And she hadn’t expected it to. Of course, she hadn’t. Laure had barely made a sound; the noise she had made was so quiet it could’ve been coming from two doors over.
Getting up, Laure yanks the chair the remaining distance. She stands on top of the squishy seat and carefully opens the window. She pulls the handle until there is a noisy creak as the maximum width is reached. The thing is barely open! If she gets creative with how she twists her hand, Laure might just be able to her fit half her hand in the gap.
Sirens blare past seemingly out of nowhere, disappearing down the strip of motorway hidden behind the trees across the parking lot. Laure almost falls off the tiny chair in her rush to descend as though her opening the window wasn’t the reason it currently sounds like a GTA chase scene in their room. But once again she’s met with total inaction from Julie’s sleeping form. And, at this point, she’s starting to doubt that Victor is even still in the room. She hadn’t looked around when she was on the chair. Now that she is ground-level her view is once again obscured by the motion of Julie’s rhythmic breathing.
Laure sits on the bed after putting the chair back. She almost lets out a gasp when she glances back towards the desk to see Victor sitting sideways on the chair and staring at her. How long had he been there? Had he been there the whole time? No. Impossible. She’d only just put the chair there.
She tries for a casual conversation opener, but nothing comes out. Laure feels as if she knows exactly what it means when people say they had their heart in their throat. She finds it difficult to swallow, but when she does, her saliva is tainted with blood. She tastes the sharp tang of copper and wonders when she’d bitten her tongue. Or is it her lip that’s bleeding?
She tries again, still aiming for casual, even as she feels a drop of sweat roll down her back and soak into her t-shirt. She remembers now about Julie mentioning that Victor never sleeps, yet she still ends up asking, “Couldn’t sleep?”
Victor just blinks at her. In that one action Laure can feel his silent judgment -- he knows she’s afraid of him, and he’s acting extra creepy just to unnerve her even more.
"How about this, you can stay in my bed and I'll just sleep in the car. You're probably not used to me being around. That's okay. But get used to it soon, because I'll only do this once." Laure barely twitches to stand up when she sees actual emotion morph Victor's face. He looks scared. This is probably what Julie is so used to seeing: a scared little boy with no one to call family and a home which no longer exists.
Victor's fear intensifies Laure's and she doesn't try to stop him as he checks the double locks on the door are secure before pulling the curtains tight across the window. There's a soft click as the noise from outside is abruptly cut off. Victor is already making his way silently towards Julie's bed and Laure doesn't dare take her eyes off him to check the window.
It's several minutes later when Laure lies back down onto her bed. Her breathing is a little quicker, and the dampness of her thin shirt is unpleasant against her skin. Even as a bead of sweat manages to trickle into the corner of her eye, she can imagine the tiny dark stains that are imprinted on the bed cover as she adjusts her position, but she doesn't even think about opening the window again.
***
Laure barely gets any sleep that night. She had lain tensely on top of the covers, trying not to move too much to avoid the odd sensation of her own cold sweat making contact again with her skin.
"You look like shit," is the first thing Julie says to Laure the next morning. Julie is sitting at a too small table, with two plates piled high with croissants and over-easy eggs. She's spreading a liberal amount of jam onto a croissant without bothering to rip it open first. Although Laure thinks she can see a tinge of worry in the way Julie looks at her, Julie looks amused, and well-rested.
Victor has a whole table to himself. There are plates filled with crumbs, the hardened crust of toasts, stray pieces of scrambled eggs, the tough end of sausages, and a few squished grapes stacked precariously on top of each other near the edge of the table. He currently has a plate in front of him, and is eating pieces of cold-cuts with both hands, his head ping-ponging from side-to-side as he bites off pieces of food from each hand. The movement is so fast that Laure is impressed he hasn't hurt himself yet. There is hardly anyone else in the sparse area that constitutes a dining room, but the few that are present are mostly entertained rather than disgusted by the very hungry little boy.
As she makes her way to Julie by giving a wide berth to Victor, Laure pretends she doesn't know him.
In response to Julie, Laure mumbles something about broken thermostats and uncomfortable beds.
Neither of them bring up the handprints on the outside of their motel window.
***
That night, the door is double-locked, and the windows are kept firmly shut. Laure even drags her bed closer to the middle of the room, away from the potential entry points.
Victor sleeps. At first it's only for a few minutes, but those minutes lengthen into hours until he is sleeping for twelve or more hours a day.
Julie tries to convince Laure this is a good sign, that it means Victor is just catching up on all the sleep he's missed so far. Laure pretends to be convinced by her words, because it seems to help Julie cope with the how rapidly the supply of dam water she brought along for Victor is diminishing.
Laure prepares herself for the inevitable. She hopes that when the time comes, Julie will be so used to seeing Victor asleep that she won't be too saddened when he doesn't wake up again.
The sun is slipping under the horizon, its faint rays making a feeble attempt to brighten up this side of the world before it glides over to the other. Everything close enough is a blood orange, and the things just on the verge of being out of reach are a water-washed red as Laure and Julie sit at the top of the beach.
Everything is still, falling into faint shadows so Laure can't even pretend to be watching the waves. Her limbs are heavy. The sand coats her arm in the wet areas, making her itchy, but she can't muster the energy to scratch. Even the metal of the beach chair she's leaning against pressing cold imprints in her back isn't enough motivation to make her move.
"It's beautiful here. Doesn't it remind you of when we went to Calais?" Julie is reclining on the beach chair with Laure's jacket covering her chest, pulled up to her chin.
Laure hmms at that. "This place is nothing like Calais. There's a lot less people, and I can't see England. There's also sand and no rubbish."
Julie lets out a puff of laughter. Laure can hear the disagreement in the fragment of the sounds that ride a sudden gust of wind inland, waves of water foaming after it. An empty crisp packet bumps against Laure's thigh before skritching down her leg and skirting around her shoes to be flattened by a tyre on the motorway.
It is fair to say that Laure is distracted, not least by the encroaching feeling of pins-and-needles in her fingers and toes. But when she catches the tail-end of what Julie is saying --
"...he's dying. Or reverting. I thought the water from the dam was helping, but it's almost finished now. He might be getting worse, and I can't lose him. Not now."
-- her arms and legs are light as a feather, and she uses the sudden burst of energy to twist her body around to stare intently at the side of Julie's face.
"Do you remember what we talked about? How we'd-- what we'd do if things got worse?" Laure asks it softly, looking up at Julie's face and hoping she isn't coming across as elated as she feels. She knows how much Julie has wanted to stay away from the madness that had been stirring in their hometown. A madness spawned from not understanding what the Revenants wanted, or why certain people came back.
Laure feels the sharp sting of wind-swept water against her face rather than actually seeing it in the fading light; Julie is crying, letting the tears collect on the collar of Laure's jacket before being flicked onto whichever path the wind takes.
Sliding in beside her, Laure hugs Julie tight against her chest. Julie goes still for a few seconds before her body shudders, her shoulders heaving almost violently as she lets out loud, unrestrained sobs of what Laure can only guess is frustration and disappointment.
Laure's heart aches for Julie's obvious pain, but her own relief is stronger.
She mumbles consoling words against Julie's hair: "It's okay... We'll fix it, we'll save him --" but it's no contest against the wind and Julie's own misery.
Glancing over to the car where Victor is sleeping, Laure barely fights the smile that washes over her face as she thinks that she might finally, finally be rid of the unnerving child.
The elation is short-lived, and Laure finds herself deflating as the seconds tick by. It's as if Julie's sadness is soaking into her with every teardrop. The weight of sadness gives way to guilt, and Laure slips into contemplation: what is wrong with her? Just a few days ago she had more or less resigned from her position as second-in-command to Thomas by disobeying a direct order and skipping town, all to protect Julie -- no, to protect Julie and Victor. Sure the kid is creepy, but adults can be just as questionable. Besides, couldn't losing Victor mean...
Frowning, Laure hugs Julie closer. Whether Victor is saved or not, she can't shake the feeling that she might lose Julie.
***
Julie never actually outright says it to Laure, but when they return to the car, her eyes red-rimmed and slightly puffy, she leans over Victor as he sleeps and says, "We're going to go home now."
When he stirs, a faint frown dashing across his face, she strokes his hair soothingly.
Laure is mildly surprised when Julie sits in the passenger seat, instead of beside Victor in the back.
It's much easier to cross the village lines going in than it was going out.
They had managed to travel a lot further than Laure had imagined, and she's already fighting back sleep before they begin their winding journey up the mountain.
"Let's stop here." Julie sounds resigned, but in no rush to face the inevitable. They've just passed through the little tunnel and are once again beside the dam. The glassy surface makes twins out of the moon and surrounding mountaintops.
The surrounding darkness suffocates the car and its inhabitants once Laure cuts off the engine. The power is once again out throughout the whole village.
"It's like we're just off canvas in a nature landscape." Julie's voice is airy, kept grounded by a small tug of realisation, as if she's not quite there, as if she's witnessing something Laure isn't privy to.
Laure raises an eyebrow non-committally, but she can't help feeling that she should savour this moment; can't help feeling that there won't be any moments like this left.
A thick carpet of fog is rolling in from the village border, obscuring the little tunnel they passed through the night before.
With a deep inhale, Laure wakes up stiff and cold, wishing that she wore layers like Julie. She glances to the backseat and sees that Victor is already awake. He looks a lot better than he has in the past couple of days. The cold doesn't even seem to be affecting him.
Julie wakes herself up with a yawn. She lifts her head up from where it had been resting on Laure's lap, and stretches her arms towards the windshield until her shoulders click.
"Morning."
"Morning." Laure replies through a yawn, which makes Julie smile as she checks on Victor. Laure has to admit, they both look vastly better than they have in the past couple of days. Clearly the dam water held no special properties outside the village borders.
Cupping her hands, Laure huffs into her palms in an attempt to warm herself up. She looks into the rear mirror for nothing more than something to do, and that's when she spots them: handprints.
She's already climbing out the car when Julie asks, "What is it?"
Julie doesn't wait for a reply; she's already beside Laure before her question is fully formed. They both stare at the various sized handprints on the rear window.
Laure feels numb all over, and she's sure it's more than just the cold. Julie's head is bobbing slowly as if she's about to fall asleep, or as if she's listening to something that Laure can't hear.
Victor has joined them by now. Sluggishly, Laure turns to look at him. Her tongue feels heavy in her mouth and it's an effort to ask him, "Did you see people near the car?" He had been awake before she was, maybe he'd seen something.
Victor nods.
She glances over at Julie to see if she's as alarmed by this information as Laure is. Surely one of them would have noticed if people had tried to get into the car at any point during the night?
Laure rests her hands on her knees to be on his eye level. "Who were they? Were there many of them? Did they speak?"
Another nod.
"What did they want?"
"To take me with them."
Julie has stopped nodding, and moves to stand behind Victor, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders, but she doesn't look worried. In fact, she seems focused on something else entirely.
It's not until Laure has straightened up that she notices both Julie's and Victor's attention has been caught by something else. She doesn't want to look but can still feel herself pivoting towards the direction where the other two are staring.
A large crowd is moving towards them from the direction of the village border. They seem to be swarming down from the mountains mainly, and there are several that are a lot closer than Laure would like.
She's thinking about how quickly the three of them could get back into the car and speed away from the mass of people, when Julie and Victor take a simultaneous step forward.
"Wait, Julie!" Laure reaches out for Julie's arm, but her fingers end up skimming the air. "We don't know who they are, or what th--"
"They won't hurt us. They're here to save us." Julie is looking at Laure as if this is the simplest thing ever.
"To save him," a familiar voice corrects.
The crowd ripples aside to reveal Lucy walking towards them. It takes Laure a few seconds longer than she would've liked to recognise Lucy. When she does it's in fragments, but the thing that stands out most vividly to her is that Lucy was the latest victim of a serial killer that had been dormant for the past seven years. Her recovery had been called miraculous. Looking at her now though, Laure isn't so sure that Lucy did survive.
Julie frowns, shaking her head and stumbling a half-step backwards, pulling Victor closer to her. "I won't leave him."
Laure feels like she's watching something far away as Lucy signals to a couple of Revenants beside her to take Victor. One comes behind Julie while the other stays in front of Victor. They both pull.
Julie doubles over, clutching Victor closer to her. "Don't touch him! Stay away!"
The struggle doesn't last long before she has successfully dislodged the Revenant from Victor and shrugged the Revenant behind her off.
"All right!" She's panting hard and sounds distressed. Laure can't see her face, but she notices the determined rise of Julie's shoulders. "All right." She sounds almost peaceful now. "I'm going with him." Her tone holds no room for negotiation.
Laure can barely breathe as she watches Julie and Victor follow the Revenants back to Lucy. She wants to ask, What are you doing? She wants to shout for Julie to stop. To tell her that Victor will probably be all right now because whatever was happening to him before has clearly stopped or slowed drastically down since their return, that they can hole up in the Helping Hand until she's sure Thomas doesn't want to discipline her for insubordination. She wants to tell her that they can actually be happy here, all three of them.
But her body has gone numb from something she's sure is more than just the cold, and her tongue is too heavy in her mouth, weighing down the words she yearns to say.