William Evans

Before he went up to bed after talking to Bucky, his door returned. William considered writing a note before he coughed and decided, best to just leave now, it might not stay long.

On the other side of the door as always, nothing had really changed, which made it easier to adjust. The rhythm of life went on as it did before with chores throughout the day, making sure that Mark got to school and their mother was happy, as happy as she could be. She always looked tired and he wished there was a way to tell her that in a strange other place, Dan Evans walked and lived a half life and missed her. Maybe someday he would find a way to let her know.

When he dreamed of Mark dying again, he woke up and stared into the shadows. This time there was no one there as Mark peered at him and mumbled about getting more sleep. It was still tricky to sleep as he worried what he would dream about, but he did sleep and there were no more shadowy figures in his dreams.

He could feel the cold barrel of a gun against his neck and Charlie Prince’s cruel voice promising death before he woke himself up sweating. It took him a moment to realize that Mark had lit their candle and was frowning at him, “You’re sick and havin’ bad dreams. I’m gettin’ Ma.”

“Don’t do that, I’m fine,” William said as he tried to sit up and felt dizzy, but was able to lean against the wall, “See, right as rain.”

By the time he’d finished sitting up, Mark was up and out of bed and giving him a look, “No, you’re not.”

As Mark went out the door, William sighed and shivered, which wasn’t right. He couldn’t afford to get sick; at least last time it happened was in Milliways and he could hide. Here he can’t. He pushes himself up while ignoring how his body feels weak. When he’s almost upright, his mother and Mark return.

His mother gives him a good long look before saying, “Back to bed.”

“Ma, I can stand up just fine and once I get walkin’ I’ll get over this.”

She sighs and pushes him back down, “No, you’ll stay in bed.”

Since they’d been talking, the sky began to lighten and Mark pointed to him with a stubborn look, “You’re all pale and you cried out like someone hurt you. You ain’t done that for a while and fevers make bad dreams worse.”

Once his mother pushed him, he fell over more than he meant to and met Mark’s gaze. Mark knew about being sick. He didn’t feel that well but he could get over it and tried once more to sit up, “It was just a dream and honest, I’ll be fine. I need to take care of the fence today.”

“No, you don’t. I won’t have you making yourself worse. We can manage a day without you up, William.” His mother seemed so tired that he lay back. He felt awful for worrying her as she smoothed back his sweaty hair, “None of those looks either. You’ll read your book and not get any sicker and you’ll tell me what scared you so. Mark, go get some water boiling.”

William watches Mark go into the kitchen and allows himself to lean back. Then asks as he coughs, “Why do you want to know? It ain’t important.”

She keeps her hand in his hair and he can feel how cool her hand is as she says, “I know you’re the man of the house now, but not for today. You used to tell me your bad dreams.”

He closes his eyes and shifts to be next to her as he hears Mark setting on some water to boil, “They’re just dreams.”

“And you don’t want to worry me.” There’s a hesitation in her voice as if she was going to say something more. He keeps his eyes closed as he doesn’t think he can bear to see her pain. After a long silence she says, “I’m goin’ to finish gettin’ dressed and make you some tea and porridge with honey. You’ll be yourself soon.”

He feels her kiss his forehead and blow out the candle as she walks to the kitchen. Once she’s gone, he opens his eyes and moves back down into bed with a shiver. Some more sleep will help.