Jamie woke screaming shrilly, hysterically. Elaine woke in response, her heart pounding at the reaction to her daughter's cries. She was up quickly and to her bed. Jamie gripped tightly to her mother when she arrived. "Mommy, Mommy, they're here."
      "Where?"
      "Here. I could hear them."
      "Here in the house?"
      "No." Jamie stammered. "But they're horrible."
      "It was just a nightmare. Take it easy. Nothing is going to hurt you. I'm here with you."
      "No, Mommy, they're here. I heard them."
      "You heard a dream. You've had nightmares before. And you remember how we treat each nightmare. It was all in my head?" she prompted.
      "Not this time. I heard them speaking."
      "Can you hear them now?"
      "No."
      "Then it was just your mind playing tricks on you while you were asleep. Come on, tell me it was all just in your mind. You know that makes you feel better."
      "But Mommy, this time it was real. I heard them talking."
      "Who was talking and what did they say?"
      "I couldn't understand them. They don't talk like people. It's like they say all kinds of things at once, and they never stop. They just keep talking, making decisions. They control people. Some of us."
      "Who, darling?"
      "The things."
      "What things?"
      "The things that live in the big tank by the highway."
      "At the oil refinery?"
      "Uh huh."
      "But they just keep oil in those storage tanks."
      "That's what they want us to believe."
      "But those tanks are inspected regularly."
      "Not this one. They control people's minds and make them work for them. They make everybody think that everything is okay, when it's not."
      "Jamie, it was just a dream."
      "No, Mommy, it's real."
      "No, Jamie. It's a dream. It's just one that seems very real. Some dreams are like that. Some seem very real, and some you know are just dreams. But it is just a dream. Do you want to come sleep with me for the rest of the night?"
      Jamie nodded. They rose and went to the other bedroom. Elaine was quickly asleep. Jamie took longer, but her mother's arms about her made her feel secure enough to fall back asleep.

      The dream recurred the next night, and the next, and kept on for the rest of the week. Elaine began to feel the effects at work from the interruption of her sleep. Her boss had noticed her mistakes, and had pointed them out to her. Elaine was sensitive to being chastised, especially since her divorce. Though it had been over two years, any man telling her that she was not doing something correctly filled her with resentment and dread in a mixture that she had to fight in order not to show an emotional outburst.
      Her boss Larry had been sympathetic to her, but his first priority was the running of the company. He had allowed her a certain leeway when she started work, during the months following her divorce, but he had withdrawn the leniency as time progressed.
      As her mistakes worsened during the week, his reprimands became more acute, and her self-restraint more taxed. By the end of the week, he felt it necessary to call her into his office for an interview.
      "Elaine, have a seat."
      She sat nervously, dreading being called into the office, though the discussions usually led to solutions. She resented being called to account, since it unhinged her self-esteem.
      "You know why you are here?"
      "My work. The mistakes."
      "Are you having problems?"
      "Not personally, but my daughter has been having nightmares all this week, and it is draining me and making me lose sleep."
      "Anything unusual happen to bring on these nightmares?"
      "No. Things have been going rather well for us as of late. We've been having fun together, going places like the beach and a trip to the national forest to go hiking. We've been having a good time, until the nightmares started."
      "Has she seen a psychologist?"
      "Larry, you know I can't afford that on my salary."
      "If I were to arrange sessions at company expense, would you take her? Elaine, your work is suffering. If it gets any worse, I'm going to have to dismiss you. Your mistakes are causing others to waste their time redoing their work, once your mistakes are discovered. This week alone, your errors have cost us in excess of eight thousand dollars. And that is not accounting the friction of having the others to redo their work, loss of confidence in the company, and what might have happened toward future sales if one of your errors had gone unnoticed."
      "I understand. Larry, I'm worried. My daughter keeps having the same nightmare, and she insists it isn't just a dream. She feels it's really happening. It's worrying me."
      "What sort of dream?"
      "She thinks that there are alien creatures in one of the petroleum storage tanks up on 225. Every time we drive by there, she points to a particular tank and says that it's the one where these creatures are."
      "Doesn't sound like a normal nightmare."
      "No. Something in the closet or under the bed, or someone dying, I could understand. She had those pretty often when A1 and I broke up. But this is different. She insists that these are not dreams. The others she recognized as nightmares, and they never recurred."
      "Sounds like you need professional help on this. Would you take her in for sessions?"
      "Yes. I'm at a point where I don't know what to do."
      "Might not hurt you to seek counseling."
      "If Jamie can get over this, I'll be okay. I'm concerned and losing sleep, but nothing more. I'm sorry, Larry, that this has happened."
      "The important thing is that we get things back on track for you. You are good at what you do, and I'd be hard pressed to replace you. You've gone a difficult road in life, Elaine, being a single mother, and you've responded better than many I've known. You're a good woman and an asset to the company. Let's see if we can get your problem solved so you can get settled back down to routine. Here's a card of the doctor I'd like you to take Jamie to see. We have an account with him through the company and the insurance policy we carry. It won't cost you anything."
      "Thanks, Larry."
      "Just doing my job, so you can do yours."
      Elaine nodded and rose, taking his inflection as dismissal.

      "I don't see why we're coming here. He's not going to believe me anymore than you do."
      "Jamie. I never said that I don't believe you."
      "Don't have to. I can tell."
      The office door opened and Doctor Harmond came out into the waiting room. "Mrs. Johnson, Jamie. This way please."
      They rose from the waiting room couch and went through the door the psychologist held open. "Jamie, would you like to wait in here? There are plenty of things to keep you occupied."
      "All right." said Jamie, showing a trace of disgust.
      She entered the play room, then the doctor led Elaine to an adjoining room that looked in on the playroom through a two way mirror. He seated her, offered her coffee, which she accepted black, and then started asking questions quietly.
      "When the appointment was made, all I was told was that your daughter was having recurring nightmares. I know little else. What can you add to that?"
      "Started early last week. Monday night. She woke me up with her screaming. She claims that there are aliens in one of the storage tanks at one of the refineries on 225. She claims that she can hear them talking to each other."
      "What are they saying?"
      "She says she doesn't understand them. But it scares her the way they talk."
      "Does she fear that they will attack her?"
      "I don't think so. More like she fears their presence."
      "And she's had the same dream each night?"
      "Yes. But the dream isn't exactly the same, from what I can gather."
      "Anything else unusual?"
      "Every time we've driven into Houston this week and gone by the refineries, she points out one particular tank and claims that it is where they are living."
      "So she is taking the dream as reality."
      "Yes. We have a thing where we talk about her dreams when they're bad. It gets her to realizing that they are just her fears coming to the surface. But this time, it didn't work. She refuses to see it as a dream. She believes it's very real."
      "Do these things do anything in her dreams?"
      "Not actively. They just stay in there and control people's minds."
      "Ah. Anything else?"
      "Not really. Not that she has told me."
      "Okay. It seems a good starting place. How is this affecting you?"
      "My work is suffering. That's why I'm here. I divorced two years ago. I have shouldered a lot of stress. I'm worried about Jamie and distracted. But other than that, I'm coping. The worst is that I haven't been able to help her get it out of her mind. I just can't seem to get through to her that it is just a dream."
      "Well, there is probably a reason. Nightmares about the refineries in Pasadena and Texas City are rather common. More common than people think. For adults, it symbolizes danger. Explosions, toxic waste, big business, and so forth. For children, it is something mystical, quite threatening, unknown and unnatural. And the part about the mind control. That is a common dream in children. They have no way of controlling their own destiny, constantly taking orders. And thoughts have power in children that most adults forget exists. Wish upon a star, step on a crack, so forth. That is why fantasy is so appealing to children. Magic is a solution that sidesteps the normal step by step we adults have learned. Quick fix for the unknown. Most adults forget the importance in wishful thinking that we have as children. Thoughts have power to children."
      "So you feel that these nightmares are her way of expressing an unmentioned fear?"
      "Possibly. Not the only possibility. The sudden onslaught of the nightmares with the recurrence could mean something else. It will take study to get a closer determination."
      "How long?"
      "I couldn't estimate before beginning therapy."
      "So this could take time."
      "It might."
      "How long would you be today?"
      "Hard to say. If you'd like to go on, I could send her home by taxi. It could be several hours."
      "Okay. Best that I not miss too much work. Could you call me about six? I should be home from work about then."
      "That would work well."
      The psychologist showed her to the door, then returned to meet with Jamie. "I hear you are having bad dreams."
      "Yes. Will I be here long?"
      "Could be a few hours."
      "Oh."
      "Do you mind coming here?"
      "I think it's a waste of time."
      "How old are you, Jamie?"
      "Nine."
      "You seem pretty smart for someone your age. Do you make good grades in school."
      "On some subjects."
      "What is your favorite subject?"
      "History."
      "What is your least favorite?"
      "Spelling."
      "Do you like your teacher?"
      "She's okay."
      "Do you have many friends in school?"
      "I guess. Yeah."
      "How do you feel about your mom?"
      "She's nice."
      "I guess it's been pretty hard living without your father."
      "I guess."
      "Do you miss him?"
     "Yes."
      "I guess it was pretty hard when the two of them broke up. Would you mind telling me what it was like?"
      "Is my mom here?"
      "No. She went on to work. We'll get a taxi cab for you when it's time for you to go."
      "I didn't like it. They fought a lot."
      "They were mean to each other?"
      "They just got mad a lot."
      "Who was the meanest?"
      "My mom."
      "Do you blame her for that?"
      "She didn't have to be that way."
      "What way?"
      "She got mad at my dad a lot."
      "What about?"
      "Stuff."
      "Like what?"
      "Just stuff. Washing dishes, mowing the lawn, cleaning up. Stuff like that."
      "Your dad didn't help much?"
      "He came home pretty tired. That didn't seem to matter to my mom."
      "So you think she was wrong to be that way to your dad?"
      "I don't know."
      "You don't want to tell me?"
      "I thought we were here to talk about my dreams."
      "It helps if I know your other problems. Sometimes that helps me understand about a person's dreams."
      "Oh. I don't think mom should have been so mean to my dad. She never thought about the way he felt. If he came home tired, it didn't matter to her. His work was pretty rough."
      "What did he do?"
      "He was a builder."
      "What did he build?"
      "Houses. He worked real hard."
      "And she didn't allow him to rest?"
      "No. She wanted him to work all the time."
      "And that is why they broke up?"
      "I guess. It was mom that wanted the divorce. My dad didn't want it. He wanted us to stay together as a family. But he moved out when my mom told him to."
      "Did they fight about that?"
      "No. My dad just started packing. He didn't say a word. He just cried and packed and moved out."
      "Do you resent your mother telling him to leave."
      "It wasn't fair."
      "To whom?"
      "To my dad, and to me."
      "You wanted your dad to stay?"
      "Yes."
      "How did you get along when he left?"
      "I didn't like it. I got mad at my mom."
      "Are you still mad at her?"
      "Some. Not as much."
      "Did your dad ever work at the refineries?"
      "No. I don't think he did. All I remember was him working on houses. I remember that we sometimes took him lunch."
      "You're mom started working when they broke up?"
      "Yes. This doesn't have anything to do with my dreams."
      "Why do you say that?"
      "Because my dreams are real."
      "How do you know that they are real?"
      "Because they are not like any other dreams I've ever had."
      "Tell me about your dreams."
      "There are things from another world in one of the big tanks up at the refineries. I hear them in my dreams."
      "Do they talk?"
      "No. They don't make sounds, except by moving. They talk with their minds. I hear them when I sleep."
      "What are they saying?"
      "I don't know. They don't speak English And they all talk at once."
      "Like you and me?"
      "No. It's different. Hard to describe. I've never heard anything like it. There are thousands of them. Maybe millions. They all think together."
      "They all think the same thing?"
      "No. They are all different, but it all adds together."
      "Like how?"
      "It's like they aren't smart enough to think on their own. But when they think together, they get smart."
      "How do you know this, if you can't understand them?"
      "It just feels that way."
      "What do they look like?"
      "Like worms, sort of. Not as long, like a worm. Wider. And they have one eye."
      "Can you draw me a picture?"
      "Just one of them?"
      "Yes. That will be fine."
      Jamie went to the blackboard. What she drew reminded David Harmond of a larval stage insect, shaped something like a fat lumpy carrot.
      "And you say that there are many of these in a storage tank at one of the refineries."
      "Yes. They all live there together. They are that big. They are sticky and slimy, like macaroni and cheese, except the sticky stuff is clear, like a runny nose."
      "Have you ever studied about insects?"
      "Some."
      "Tell me what you know."
      "Well, you have to watch out for bees and wasps. They sting. And then there are ants. They bite. Then there are beetles and caterpillars. They eat plants."
      "Do you know how insects are born?"
      "They lay eggs. My dad told me that."
      "What happens when they hatch?"
      "They are insects."
      "Do you know anything about the changes they go through?"
      "No. I haven't learned about that."
      "Jamie. I'm going to go get some pictures. I may be awhile. Go ahead and play with the toys here. I'll be back as soon as I can."
      "Okay. Do you believe me?"
      "I haven't made up my mind yet. I don't disbelieve yet."
      "Okay."
      He got up and left the room. Jamie started playing with the toys in the room. Dr. Harmond recorded it on video tape while he went to his processor and started doing some research on insects, trying to find a larva that fit the picture she drew.

      David found a number of larva that resembled the shape of Jamie's drawings, but none of them had one fluid filled eye. And none were as big as the picture. But the implication in Jamie's words about the colony mind bothered him. The colony mind was an adult concept, not one expected from a third grader. And she knew nothing of the larva stage in insects.
      He returned to the room and found that she had taken the flexible plastic curtain and turned it into a circle. She dumped all the small toys inside it.
      "If you were to fill it with the stuff my mom puts on me when I get burned, then you'd have it."
      "What does she put on your burns?"
      "This clear stuff, kinda wet and blobby. Alone something."
      "Aloe vera gel?"
      "Yeah, that's it."
      "Well, Jamie. You are presenting me with a problem. Your mother said that you pointed the tank out to her. Could you point it out to me?"
      "No. You can't go near it. They'll control you."
      "Just show me which one, from the highway. Then I can ask questions."
      "You mean call them up on the phone?"
      "Yes."
      "They will lie to you. It controls them. It tells them to lie."
      "Can you give me an example?"
      "No. I just know it."
      "From your dreams."
      "Yes. Just like that," she pointed at her construction, "except for the eyes. Eyes all over."
      "They all focus on the same thing?"
     "Yes."
      "Come on. My car is outside."
      "Are you a safe driver?"
      "Very safe."
      "Okay."

      "Lenny, David. I called you to ask some advice. I have a patient that is seriously making me question my intuitive processes. I have a patient, nine year old female. She sees in her dreams an alien originated colony mind mass of creatures living in one of the oil storage tanks in Pasadena. She pointed it out to me. How would I best go about finding out what is in the tank? I'm not out to make waves. I'm out to soothe a poor girl's mind. This dream has been recurring nightly. I normally wouldn't bother, but her concepts are beyond her academic age in regard to what she imagines."
      "Do you want to make an inspection?"
      "I promised her that I wouldn't. Personally. Something about their ability to control minds to obey them. I know. Sounds like Saturday morning on TV. But some of the details are bothering me. Either she's sensing something or she's a consummate actor. What I want is a video tape to show her what is in the tank. That way, she can see for herself and I don't   have to go into the tank."
      "Oh. Well, who owns the tank?"
      "Arco."
      "Let me make some calls, and I'll get back to you."
      "Thanks, Lenny. I owe you one."
      "Nah. I owe you one less."

      "I figured it out. You move the lid off the tape, the one that opens inside the VCR, and scratch something to identify it. Then we watch the people through a telescope, as they drive up and make the tape. Then we keep an eye on car as it returns, with the camera strapped on top. That way we know that we're seeing what is in the tank."
      "Are you sure you're nine years old?" "Yeah."

      It took time to set up. The morning of the taping, Jamie showed up disappointed.
      "What's wrong?"
      "They've moved to another tank. This one can't be seen from the road. They'll never let us see inside. They traveled from one tank, down the pipe to another tank. And they've got oil floating above them. They know about me now."
      Dr Harmond slumped. He was unsure if she was believing this or if Jamie was backing down from a bluff. "Then there's not much that we can do, is there?"
      "I guess not."
      He went down stairs and made a phone call to the company officials and apologized for the inconvenience, telling them that the inspection had turned out to be unnecessary. He reported that the girl's dreams had ceased, and that he was chalking it up to imagination. When he returned to the roof, Jamie was sitting and thinking.
      "You don't believe me anymore, do you?"
      "Jamie, adults need proof. We learn that as children. Things don't work without proof."
      "Dr. Harmond, I'm scared. What happens if they get away? They know about me "
      "I'll see what I can do. I'll stick my neck out for you. But not this way. I've already ruined my welcome there. I'll take you home."

      It was Monday when Jamie returned for her next visit.
      "How are you doing this afternoon?"
      "Fine. I haven't had a dream since I saw you last. I guess they went away. Doesn't seem to matter anymore."
      "Oh?"
      "Yeah. It ended days ago. Thursday was my last dream."
      "You're not afraid anymore?"
      "Nah. It was just nightmares. I guess I just thought that they were real. I do things like that. I guess I just want attention, now that my dad is gone. I kinda get carried away."
      "Parenthetic interludes."
      "Right." She smiled at his understanding.
      "Okay, Jamie. I guess that is it. I won't be needing to see you again."
      "Good."
      "Hurry and catch your mother before she leaves."
      "Right." Jamie was out the door in a flash. David's brow furled with a frown of stern concentration on his face. He picked up the phone.
      "Lenny. David here. I need another favor on the same thing. A big one."

      David sat on the shoulder on the freeway, hood up, engine running. Traffic was light as he waited, and he was thankful for that. He watched the gates from the plant. His CB sounded.
      "Hey, Devil Eyes, you out there?"
      "Sitting pretty."
      "This here's the Wide Eyes. We got one pulling away. I sure hope you know what you're doing. I'll be on you."
      "I hear you, Wide Eyes. So do I, in all aspects. 10-4, good buddy."
      David went out and stood before the hood, watching Lenny in the plane over the Ship Channel. A police car pulled over. "Are you having trouble?"
      "Engine over-heated a bit. Seems fine now."
      "Need any help?"
      "I was just about ready to get back on the road."
      "Be careful."
      "Yes, sir." David had to force out the "sir". He held off the adrenaline rush until after the patrol car was moving away. "Be careful." echoed in his mind. "Right." he replied to the reverberation that faded to the background shakes of his body. He closed the hood and got behind the wheel. He waited nine long minutes until the CB sounded again.
      "Hey, Devil Eyes. Keep 'em wide. She's bucking the fence now. Come back to me."
      "Spot her. 10-4, with a hang on."
      He watched the truck pull up to the gate, then pass out onto the feeder. He watched it roll forward toward the on ramp, then looked for a hole in traffic. He let the first few go by. With traffic as slow as it was, he could waste a few. He picked a slot as the truck looked like it was swinging to the ramp. His foot hit the accelerator, and he was soon doing sixty with a car on his tail. A car passed on his left, and the tail shrugged him and passed at seventy.
      "Speed bait." he thought. But he had too much speed to avoid overtaking the truck too quickly. So he let off and brought it under the speed limit until the truck had full steam. Then he was doing seventy five to cut the distance. He settled in on the tail until they hit the 610 interchange. He dropped to the right as the lane opened and pressed down to start passing the truck. The truck speeded up as well to get in before him for the inside lane of the curve. But David won the battle of wills and horsepower per weight, just as they reached the notorious feeder for 225 to 610 North. It was where the really bad truck accidents happened, second only to 59 and 610. When he had the 610 Ship Channel Bridge in sight, he cut in close in front of the truck and let off the gas.
      The truck driver slammed on his brakes as David hit the accelerator. He looked in his rear view mirror when he had the worst of the turn behind him, and he saw the truck massaging the guard rail off it's posts, the truck fully on the retaining wall. He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the trailing cars, which the two had left well behind in the race for pole position, come to a safe stop. He blended into the traffic before anyone could peg him as responsible. Everyone was looking at the wreck.
      "Please let me have done the right thing." he said as he reached the top of the bridge, looking to his right down Refinery Row He knew that he wouldn't see the tank from where he was, but he looked anyway. As he coasted down the abrupt incline, he edged to the right and took the first exit just below the bridge.
      As he got back on the freeway to make his pass back over the bridge, the CB sounded.
      "Devil Eyes, you done spilled the cookies. I hope you don't mind my having called this one in to HPD, do you?"
      "Not at all. What's on the pavement?"
      "Too far to tell, but I see texture. Doesn't look like oil to me. Moving in."
      "I'll have a visual in a few moments. Half way up."
      "Hang your ears. Got another call on the big radio. 10-4."
      David made the rise, and the wreck was visible, but still distant. A truck moving slower cut off his vision before he could see any details. He pulled over to the right to make the cut back to 225. The freeway cut him off as he dropped. He bore left on the feeder to come back around. The slope and retaining wall at the accident site hid the pavement from him. But the entire truck was on top of the retaining wall. There was a hole in the tank, and he saw objects dropping to the pavement, and a few went over the wall for the sixty foot drop to the grass. On one of the objects, he saw an eye.
      The curve left took all his attention until he was merging with the other 610 feeder and 225 through traffic. A look behind to his left gave his best straight on view of the pavement. The ramp was covered with eyes.
      Dr. David Harmond sighed, then nearly had a wreck, avoided because of a horn blast, followed by the finger as the car sped by. He laughed and got back to the flow of traffic, leaving the rubberneckers behind to have their own accidents.

      It happened early enough to be on the five o'clock news. Extra editions of the paper were run, something unusual for Houston. It made the evening news and there were special network news bulletins afterward. The next day, it was international scandal. The following day, the creatures were exterminated after national guard gassed the refinery. Those workers with respirators were taken down with long range dart rifles.
      With Lenny's help, they determined which tank held the creatures and the pipe line was disconnected. They inserted a cleaning ball with wire attached, and pressurized it into the tank. A massive electrical current was fed to the wire. There was a scream that everyone heard inside their heads for miles around. 225 became one huge car wreck. The ax fell for that oversight, but the autopsy on the aliens showed them to be the same as from the truck.
      More were discovered in New Orleans a week later, but they were too few to have any sort of control over people.

      Jamie's next visit was three days after the electrocution of the tank. It was late in the day, the sun almost setting. David had stayed late to arrange interviews. It was now known that he was responsible for exposing the creatures. "Hi."
      "Hello, Jamie." "They had me, you know."
      "Yes. I knew."
      "You did?"
      "Yep. When you whirlwinded your way in and out of here like nothing was ever wrong, conversing like an adult, I believed your story. And believe me, I stuck my neck out on a limb, big time."
      "I heard."
      "So what brings you by?"
      "I took a cab over here to tell you thank you."
      "It's late. You would have usually missed me. In fact, you nearly did. I was just about to go. Want a ride home?"
      "Sure."
      They went out to the car and took the freeway. He took 45 to 610 and swung north along the short run to 225. As they made the ramp, he pointed left. "See the guard rail, where it's all torn up?"
      "Yeah."
      "That is where the world learned about the aliens."
      "Where the road slants and curves so much?"
      "Right there."
      They drove on and entered the land of the refineries. "I used to be afraid of all this at night. All the pipes lit up and the smell and all. Doesn't seem so scary now. I mean it really used to give me the willies."
      "Where did you learn that word?"
      "From my dad. He came to see me yesterday."
      "Happy to see him?"
      "Yeah. But the lights. They don't look as scary as they used to. Sort of looks pretty, with the steam and the fire coming out the long skinny stacks."
      "Burn off release chimney. Natural gas mixed in with the oil. Other stuff they don't want, too."
      "Isn't that pollution?"
      "Yes, but the EPA, the people in Washington who watch that stuff, make sure that it isn't that bad. Some people would disagree. But it's no worse than what these cars all around us are making. Less." They took the exit at the end of the row of refineries in Pasadena, where there started a gap in the facilities before it picked up again toward La Porte. They were at her house a few blocks later.
      "I really want to thank you for what you did. I remember what happened when they got me. They took me off of my bike into a truck and drove me over there. I saw them in the tank, all of those eyes looking at me at once. But they had control of me by then. It was really bad, but I didn't mind. I didn't feel bad about doing bad things, like lying to you and Mom. I wasn't afraid of them when I saw them. They made me think that they were cute, if you can believe that. Ick. It told me what to say, and then they took me back near home with my bike. It was like nothing had happened. Do you think that it will affect me, like in the future?"
      "I don't think so, as long as you don't let it worry you too much. Just remember that we ended up the strongest. And if you ever feel funny about this, come pay me a visit."
      "Okay. Thanks. You saved me."
      "Doing what I thought best. Be good. And watch what you dream."
      "Right." She got out of the car and ran in the house.
      David drove off. "What to I do for an encore?" he asked himself as he took the corner.