Bax lay in the surprisingly comfortable double bed closest to the door and let his mind wander as was his usual routine. If you asked him he would tell you he didn't dwell on things. 'What's past is past... can't change it so move on' but that was bullshit. Even when he was married he would lay in bed listening to Norma breath (she told him she didn't snore) and recount the day. He wondered how people saw him and what impression they left with – good or bad? He played back parts of the day and always seemed to come up with better things to say or do. His first day in Primacy had left him with a lot of material.

Right off the bat, he could think of many better things to do than wizz down his leg. He still couldn't believe that had happened. He hadn't had an accident of the excretory kind since he was in grade four. He remembered with full clarity unlike most of the memories of his youth, but he supposed that was normal with embarrassing or painful recollections.

It had been a school trip to a fire station. His entire class had gone and they had all gotten to slide down the brass pole (a risk that would never be allowed nowadays). They took turns sitting in the fire truck and watched as a huge man named Bill sprayed water from one of the hoses. He remembered putting his hand on that hose and feeling the power of the water surging through it. Bax had decided he wanted to be a fireman right then and there but that idea was flushed from his brain just an hour later.

The ride back on the school bus had been excruciating. Bax had to pee and he had been far too shy to ask Fireman Bill where the bathroom was, so he held it. He just had to make it back to school which he had done. And he had made it up the stairs to room 204 and then to his desk in the dead centre of the room. There were only ten minutes left before hometime but he couldn't wait any longer. Kids were milling around the classroom noisily and Mrs. Rose was annoyed. Bax put his hand up and wave it to get her attention. She was yelling at a white-haired boy named Craig who was a trouble-maker and not paying attention to the kids who were sitting at there desks. When she had finally dealt with Craig and turned back to the rest of the class, Bax's wasn't the only hand in the air. She called on Robin first. The cute little blond girl asked in her quiet polite voice to use the 'restroom' (do you need to take a rest? I'm gonna explode!) and Mrs. Rose nodded. That was bad for Bax as only one student was permitted to use the facilities at a time.

Mrs. Rose turned her eyes to his flailing hand.

"Yes, Jeffery?" She asked. Bax hated it when people used his full name and Mrs. Rose always did, but that was the least of his worries.

"Can I go to the bathroom, please?" Bax asked, being very sure to use 'the magic word' as Mrs. Rose demanded.

She shook her head, her stiff black Aquanet hair swayed back and forth looking as if it might snap off. "You know the rules Jeffery, and besides there are only five minutes left until the bell."

Bax knew he wasn't going to last five minutes and so he did what he always did in such situations he swallowed and focused on the pain. The ache was almost a living thing, he could picture his bladder like a water balloon stretched to it's maximum about to pop. He was sweating, gripping the sides of his desk with this legs pressed tight together.

Four minutes left... but he wasn't going to make it.

Maybe he could let out just a little, just enough to relieve the pressure. He had done it before, a little dribble that would be soaked up by his blue Y-front underpants. Just a tiny amount and no one would know because they were about to go home and he could throw his underwear in the wash and not smell of that pissy ammonia reek that lingered on so many of the younger kids.

Two minutes left... but it was two minutes too long and he had no choice. He tensed and pushed out just a squirt. The relief was instant, but then he realized he couldn't stop. The squirt became a torrent, like the pressurized water spewing from the fire hose so powerfully that even giant Bill the fireman could barely control it.

Nine-year-old Jeffrey Stuart Baxter peed. He peed hard and long and could not stop.

He was sitting so at first no one noticed. It filled he briefs, darkening the crotch and seat his bargain brand jeans then rushed down his legs and began pooling on the floor – a yellow puddle for all to see – and Bax cried. He cried with shame and horror at the laughter of the other kids. He cried that his mother would have to come to school with a new pair of pants for him to wear home. He cried at the thought of walking out of the classroom soaking wet with everyone watching... and there the memory ended.

He actually had no idea what happened after the tears started. He knew his mother must have come to get him, she didn't drive and worked from home so she would have marched down the road with her short quick strides carrying a replacement pair of pants. He knew he must have left the classroom, but where he went he had no idea. He had some vague notion that Mrs. Rose had told him he should have just run to the bathroom, even though she had refused him, which made no sense. In those days, what the teacher said was law and you would never break that law.

All of this ran through Bax's sleepy brain with a detached sense of wonder.

He remembered what he had done after today's accident. He had stripped and showered off the piss, then changed into new boxers, jeans and socks. He had put the wet ones in the bathtub, rinsed them out and hung them to dry on the shower rod. After that, he had walked down to the lobby and asked the small grey-haired man at the counter (Sara was nowhere in sight thank goodness) if there as a restaurant in town. There wasn't but the hotel had a limited menu and so he had ordered meatloaf and mashed potatoes and ate in his room.

He had a book and he read it for about an hour but it was not really very good and he found himself dozing off, so he had pulled off his clothes and slid under the cool sheets naked thinking he would fall asleep almost instantly... needless to say he was wrong.

Instead, the simple act of putting out the oil lamp by the side of the bed had brought a rush of questions. How could this place have no electricity? A localized outage was his first thought but how long had the power been out? Long enough that the gas station had manual pumps? Long enough that oil lamps had been installed throughout the hotel and in every room? He had looked out of the window before getting into bed and been amazed by just how dark it was. Only starlight lit the town of Primacy. There were no cars, no one was on the sidewalk and no light shone from any other building. For all he knew he was the only one still awake and it was only nine o'clock. Weird.

Speaking of weird – old Bob at the gas station was weird. His whole nature was wrong... as if he didn't want Bax in town. Didn't want Bax to buy gas or get his car serviced. Heck, it seemed like he didn't even want Bax to step out onto the pavement. What kind of a businessman was Bob Kout? Sure small town people might distrust big city folk but a bucks a buck after all.

Even Sara Massie was weird, to be honest. Her voice, breathy and high like an old-time movie vixen. Her lips so very red and skin so pale. Now that he really thought about it the style of her platinum blond hair was very old fashioned, making a good match for her sweet, flowery perfume. Even her dress was long by today's standards and she had those sexy seams down the backs of her tan stockings. He wondered idly if they were held up with a garter belt, chuckling to himself as the image came unbidden to his mind and he felt the slight possibility of an erection.

He pushed the feeling away and began to drift off, the bed was wonderfully soft and warm.

Then... cold... cold and wet... and dark so very dark. He looked up, and high above was a circle of purple-black sky. He could see two stars and nothing more. He was surrounded by rock and looking up he felt as if the rock was pressing in tighter and tighter. Claustrophobia crushed his chest like a vice and he couldn't breathe. Gasping he reached out and his hands touched wet rock on either side. He had to climb out, had to reach that circle of sky. There was no air down here, the air was all high above him. He braced first one leg against the rock and then the next. He used to climb the walls in his hallway at home like this when he was a kid, pretending to be Spiderman. He climbed slowly at first then faster as his muscles remembered the trick of it. Ten feet, then twenty he looked down and knew that if he slipped now he would break his neck. He looked up but that circle of sky was no closer. He climbed faster still, his hands and bare feet raw from the jagged rock, almost slipping on its damp surface again and again. Still, the sky was no closer. A scream now, far below and he stopped. He stared down, far down to the bottom at least fifty feet below and saw her. White and sharp and terrible. A woman in bloody rags, broken bones jutting out through torn skin and she was screaming. Screaming for help. He had to get out... he had to go back... he had to get to the sky... he couldn't breathe... he grabbed his throat... he was falling... falling... he hit the ground...

He was in the hotel room, tangled in the sheets. His legs were still on the bed, his torso over the edge and his face and shoulder were pressed to the carpet.

'A dream, just a dream' he thought and dragged himself back onto the bed. He untangled the sheets and realized they were wet. What the Hell? Had he pissed the bed too? But no – just sweat – he was covered in sweat.

Bax shook his head, her scream was still echoing in his ears. He got up and flopped down onto the other double bed, laying on top of the cover breathing as if he had just run a marathon.

"What the fuck is going on?"