When he woke again, he felt much better. At least the pain had receded a bit—his head no longer felt like an over-inflated balloon, ready to pop, and the storm that had raged through his stomach earlier was now calm. Matt lay alone in the bed, huddled among warm blankets, his arms clutching something soft tightly to his chest. He opened one eye.
The pain stayed at bay.
He opened the other eye and stared into the darkness of his bedroom. The curtains were drawn tight against the day; the only light came from the digital alarm clock on Vic’s bedside table, its display giving off a dull red glow. 2:23, it read, and as Matt watched, the last digit flickered to a 4. An unblinking dot in front of the first number indicated P.M.
With a yawn, Matt stretched across the length of the bed. On h
