The inquisitors are nowhere to be found on this side of the state. Here, at Charlie and Megan’s rental cabin on Fremont Lake, no one knows her. The days are peaceful but the nights . . . in a tiny cabin, the nights are bad. Dreams don’t take vacations when people do. It’s always something, isn’t it? Always something and never nothing for Janie. Never, ever nothing. Like the car a doctor once told her never to drive, she craves it. Craves the rebellious never, the elusive nothing. And when the next nightmare begins, she thinks about it for real. 1:23 a.m. Janie shakes on a lumpy sofa. Beside her, stretched out in a reclining lawn chair, is Cabe. Asleep. He’s dreaming about her. Janie watches, as she sometimes does when his dreams are sweet. Storing up memories. For later. But this . . . They’re playing paintball in an outdoor field with a dozen faceless people.
