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His face screwed up in pain and he curled up, panting. "Seeing stuff. Crazy stuff."
"Like what?"
"Can't tell. Just--" Another jolt of pain. "Stuff. Images. Don't make sense."
He took a few deep breaths, then let go of my hand and pushed up on his elbows. Another look toward the door.
"He can't hear you. What do you see?"
"You know how when you dream, stuff from your day comes back, only it's all mixed up? That's what it's like. I see things and sometimes I recognize them, but they're..." He searched for the words. "In the wrong place. Out of context. That's it. Out of context."
"Like what?"
He hesitated, then shook his head. "Nothing imp--"
"Like what, Corey?"
"Rafe." He said the name quickly, as if getting it out before he could decide not to. "I saw Rafe and I saw you. Only it's ... not any place I've seen you two together."
"Someplace you don't recognize."
"No, it's your place." He waved at the window. "You, me, Rafe, Daniel, and your dog out behind your house. It's like seeing a memory that never happened. Which is why I think it's my brain spitting out garbage. But if I tell Daniel..."
"He'll worry it's a neurological problem."
"Neuro...? Right. Brain. You could just say brain, you know."
"Neurological covers more than just the brain. It--"
He held up his hand. "If there's one bonus to this disaster, it's not having to go to school for a while. Don't spoil that for me. Please."
I smiled. He opened his mouth, then winced again. When he opened his eyes, he looked over my shoulder and let out a sigh of relief.
"Finally. Drugs." He put out his hand. "Give 'em."
"They aren't there," Daniel said. "We searched the medicine cabinet, the drawers, everywhere. There's ... a lot of stuff missing. I think your mom is planning to be gone a while."
"Probably didn't want to leave pills lying around," Sam said. "No need to give anyone a reason to break in."
"Let's hope they didn't take the alcohol, too," I said as I stood.
Corey shook his head. "I think I'm okay--" Another wave of agony doubled him over, retching.
"I'll grab a beer from--" Daniel began.
"No, I'm okay. Really. Just get dressed before you scare the girls." He waved at Daniel, bare-chested after taking off his soiled shirt. "Help yourself to my closet."
"You wear a medium. I don't."
"That's just because I like my shirts fitting better."
"Tighter," I said.
"And, again, I don't," Daniel said. "I'll wash this one."
Corey made a face at him and waved him off. Once Daniel was gone, he collapsed, panting, as if he'd been holding back.
"If a drink will fix this--" I began.
