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both gone off the deep end. Then again, what she was about to suggest would make this dream business sound perfectly logical by comparison.
    â€œWhat’s your idea?” he asked again.
    She walked to the leather bed Thomas had slept on and faced the professor. The room’s lights were low. A computer screen cast a dull glow over his desk. The brain-wave monitor sat dormant to her left.
    â€œDo you still have the blood you drew from Thomas?” she asked.
    â€œBlood?”
    â€œThe blood work—do you still have it?”
    â€œThat would have gone to our lab for analysis.”
    â€œAnd then where?”
    â€œI doubt it’s back.”
    â€œIf it is—”
    â€œThen it would be in the lab upstairs. Why are you interested in his blood?”
    Kara took a deep breath. “Because of something that happened to Monique. She crossed over into Thomas’s dreams. The only thing that links the realities other than dreams is blood, a person’s life force, as it were. There’s something unique about blood in religion, right? Christians believe that without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sins. In this metaphysical reality Thomas has breached, blood also plays a critical role. At least as far as I can tell.”
    â€œGo on. What does this have to do with Monique’s dreams?”
    â€œMonique fell asleep with an open wound. She was with Thomas, who also had an open wound on his wrist. I know this sounds strange, but Monique told me she thought she crossed into this other reality because her blood was in contact with his when she dreamed. Thomas’s blood is the bridge to his dream world.”
    Bancroft lifted a hand and adjusted his round glasses. “And you think that . . .” He stopped. The conclusion was obvious.
    â€œI want to try.”
    â€œBut they say that Thomas is dead,” Bancroft said.
    â€œFor all we know, so is Monique. At least in this reality. The problem is, the world might still depend on those two. We can’t afford for them to be dead. I’m not saying I understand exactly how or why this could work, I’m just saying we have to try something. This is the only thing I can think of.”
    â€œYou want to re-create the environment that allowed Monique to cross over,” he stated flatly.
    â€œUnder your supervision. Please . . .”
    â€œNo need to plead.” A glimmer of anticipation lit his eyes. “Believe me, if I hadn’t seen Thomas’s monitors with my own eyes, I wouldn’t be so eager. Besides, I’ve been tested positive for the virus he predicted from these dreams of his.”
    The psychologist’s willingness didn’t really surprise her. He was wacky enough to try it on his own, without her.
    â€œThen we need his blood,” she said.
    Dr. Myles Bancroft headed toward the door. “We need his blood.”

    It took less than ten minutes to hook her up to the electrodes Bancroft would use to measure her brain activity. She didn’t care about the whole testing rigmarole—she only wanted to dream with Thomas’s blood. True, the notion was about as scientific as snake handling. But lying there with wires attached to her head in a dozen spots made the whole experiment feel surprisingly reasonable.
    Bancroft tore off the blood-pressure cuff. “Pretty high. You’re going to have to sleep, remember? You haven’t told this to your heart yet.”
    â€œThen give me a stronger sedative.”
    â€œI don’t want to go too strong. The pills you took should kick in any moment. Just try to relax.”
    Kara closed her eyes and tried to empty her mind. The missile that France had fired at Israel had either already landed or was about to. She couldn’t imagine how a nuclear detonation in the Middle East would affect the current scenario. Scattered riots had started just this morning, according to the news. They were mostly in Third World