A - The Waking Hours - 11

14

Wednesday grew older, and gave birth to Thursday morning.

Lukas lay in his room, trying to read and waiting for his second sleep period to roll around. After the last few nights, it had become almost routine for him now; two hours dreamless sleep between midnight and two, followed by three hours awake.

The second, longer sleep period, tended to alternate between three and four hours. Lukas usually awoke sometime between eight and nine o'clock, feeling better than he had at any time since his self-discharge from the hospital.
 
Lukas reached the end of the page, and closed the paperback. It was almost four o'clock; time to think about settling down for a few hours. He wasn't really in the mood for reading anyway, he thought. His mind seemed more interested in replaying the events of the day.

'So, what about that man " what was his name? Jacklinson?' Helen had asked.

'Jackinson " David Jackinson.' Lukas shrugged. And, I don't know.' He admitted. 'He's..,' He shook his head. 'I just don't know. He may be perfectly innocent " but I just can't help thinking he's involved. There was something about him; something I couldn't put my finger on, but maybe it was just that he didn't seem to like me very much.'

'Well, for what it's worth,' Helen told him. 'Abilities or no, I've always trusted your character assessments.' She smiled. 'Remember Robby Howarth? You never liked him - and you kept telling me that he wasn't to be trusted, that there was something off about him. I wouldn't believe you though " after all, no girl want to be told that the mean she loved " thought she loved " is a rat.'

'Sorry.' Lukas muttered through compressed lips. Helen patted his hand affectionately.

'Don't worry, little brother. It's all water under the bridge now. And you were right. He proved it to me himself" several times over, actually. And that's the point I'm trying to make. Every time you said something about a person was good or bad; wherever people were concerned, I've never known you to be wrong. If you said there was something strange about a person; I learned to steer clear.'

'You did?' Lukas was surprised. 'I never realized.'

'Of course you didn't; you're a man.' Helen told him matter-of-factly. 'But, that's why you shouldn't trust this Jacklinson " Jackinson. Whatever.' She corrected herself. 'If you think he's odd, then, well, he's most definitely odd.'

Now, lying in his bed, waiting for sleep to claim him, Lukas mulled once more over his sisters words. He saw again, David Jackinson; watching him expressionlessly, his empty eyes never leaving Lukas' as he entered the cab.

Was he aware of what lurked inside of him, Lukas wondered. Had the driver of the lorry known, earlier that day? Or, were they unaware; oblivious of they things they did?

As for the worms; it was clear to Lukas that they had purpose; intent. That they also seemed to feed upon raw emotion was equally evident, from what he had seen. But, he wondered, why could only he see them? And why now, after his ability had deserted him?

The fact that he could see them, seemed to indicate that, whatever they were, they were not dead. At least, he amended, not in the sense that he was accustomed to thinking of the dead.

So, if not dead, what were they? Aliens?

No, Lukas thought; not aliens. Whatever they were, wherever they originated, Lukas sensed that they had been around for a long time. A very long time. There had been a sense of timelessness about them, and about the world that Lukas had been allowed a glimpse of, through David Jackinson's eyes. A permanence that suggested that the worms had been, and always would be, around to feed off human emotion - fear and terror.

This line of speculation led Lukas towards another, more disturbing line of thought. What if many of the tragedies and catastrophes throughout history had been engineered by these creatures, in order to satiate the worms hunger. How many of the most infamous monsters of history had they influenced.    

How many wars might they have ignited?

No matter how much Lukas told himself that it was pointless, worrying about what might or might not have already happened, his mind kept returning to the idea of thousands of years of human conflict. Of an oblivious humanity being watched and fed upon by creatures of which they literally had no comprehension of.

He was still gnawing at the concept, when unconsciousness fell upon him.