The air of Kemah, Texas was that of a sauna suffering from an algae infestation. Though it would be difficult to tell due to extensive renovation, Kemah was once marshland, and the ocean hadn't forgotten. Humidity crawled into my apartment, lightly coating my belongings. A thin line of sweat and water vapor clung to my skin as I lay in bed, fearful of what dreams would greet me. Shadows jumped across the beige walls of my home, and every little creak in the foundation of the apartment seemed more sinister than the last.

My fear of the violet-eyed man caused me to buy a variety of stimulants, from coffee to Adderall, merely to stay awake. Three days I had successfully evaded both my own thoughts and responsibilities. In my attempt to avoid the man, I had called in sick to work and watched movies in my room to distract myself from the paranoia, though at this point my ringing mind and pounding skull had brought me to the brink of defeat. There was also Will to think about. I had a week's worth of IV solution left, and returning to work in this state would cause problems for my co-workers.

And so I sat, shaking from the mixture of Adderall and caffeine, waiting for the drugs to leave my system and to be thrown into the unknown. As my heart rate continued to climb and sleep continued to elude me though, I considered looking to another drug. I opened my nightstand and inspected the tablets within. Three of these in rapid succession ought to knock me out, though whether I'd wake up again was another matter. I took the first tablet as I added a fresh packet of solution to Will's IV stand. A trickle of sweat rolled down his face.

After a few minutes, my headache began to lessen, though my heart rate continued to speed toward the sound barrier. With Will's IV taken care of, for the time being anyway, I popped the second tablet and walked my mind my mind back toward happier times. I was once again standing beneath the limestone seal of Texas Tech University, the humidity of Greater Houston more than five hundred miles away. Will and I were sitting on a wooden bench overlooking a fountain statue depicting a book held by two great stone hands. It was here that we became more than friends. It was a memory I returned to often in the wake of the deep sleep epidemic.

I expected him to grab my shoulder and begin the conversation, as he always did in my memories, though something about this memory was off. I looked around at the students around campus and realized none were moving, and all were staring at us. I turned to Will, confused about the odd discrepancy, to see violet-eyes staring back at me. The being beside me grabbed my hand and pulled me closer. With the face of my beloved but the vaguely European accent of the violet-eyed man, he whispered into my ear.

"Danger has found you. Awaken Olley."

My heart rate skyrocketed, and my vision blurred. I was in two places at once, both the university campus and the humid apartment. The visions of the past blurred into the present. The violet-eyed man sat on my bed as once motionless students marched toward the bench. It was as if through one eye I could see the corrupted vision of the past, with its ominous army of students through one eye, and through the other the present, though it seemed as though I was not alone in the apartment.

I closed my eyes and shook my head to try and readjust myself to the present. As I opened them, the violet-eyed man was gone, and a solitary figure stood at the foot of my bed. I cursed and scrambled from beneath the covers, though when my feet hit the carpeted floor, the figure lunged forward to grab me, narrowly missing me.

"Who the fuck are you?" I yelled. The figure didn't respond. It was dressed in a black Adidas tracksuit, donning a black ski-mask over its face. It had the proportions of a slightly fat man and wore a dark backpack, which it took off and began to rifle through. As it did, I dashed toward my nightstand and grabbed the pistol given to me by the violet-eyed man three days prior, though I hadn't purchased any ammunition for the gun. I pointed it toward the man and prayed that he'd take the bluff. "I don't know who the fuck you are, but if you don't want to be swiss cheese you'd better drop that fucking backpack and take off that mask."

The man looked up toward me, and dropped the backpack, though he did not remove his mask. His lips curled into a sneer, and he chuckled.

"Looks like you finally found your killer instinct." the man said. He spoke with a southern drawl, annunciating the I in finally in the way central Texans often do. "I ain't about to get smoked for this kind of job. I ain't gonna stick around."

The man raised his hand, and a wall of semi-translucent light appeared, cutting the room in half. I tossed a shoe from my floor toward the wall, though when it hit it, the shoe sparked with an electrical boom, falling backwards. As the shoe began to smoulder, the masked man picked his backpack up and walked toward the apartment exit. As he opened the door, he spoke.

"I'd suggest you change your allegiance. I'm not going to be the last. If you want to be on the right side of history, its time you visited La Porte and met with Alexander Richards."

The man closed the door behind him, and I was left with my smouldering shoe, my sleeping lover, and too many questions. I left the gun on the ground, threw my shoe into the sink with the water running over it, and popped the third tablet.

Fuck it, if I'm not going to wake up, I'd rather die sleeping.