Hunter Beaumont awakened drenched in sweat, striped sheets twisted around him. His heart pounded and an irrational fear coursed through him, disproportionate to the calmness of the dark bedroom surrounding him.

He sat up, rubbing his hand over his slick face, and reassured himself with the same words countless nightmare sufferers have told themselves since the dawn of time: "It was only a dream; it was only a dream." But it was that same dream again. The one that was part memory, part horror movie. The one where he was camping with his parents and he can see the glow of the campfire flickering on their faces. It's a lovely scene, at first, romantic and warm. His parents' voices are hushed, his mother's laugh tinkling, as the two of them huddle together, the fire keeping the darkness of the woods at bay. But then a shadow falls over his mother and father's faces and their eyes turn in an instant from contented and adoring to terrified. Then come the screams...and the blood, all the blood. That was when Hunter always awakened.

But this time something more than the nightmare had awakened him. Was someone knocking on his bedroom door? Yes, there it was again, an almost tentative tapping. In his post nightmare state, Hunter imagined the worst--that a monster lurked outside, something needing to be invited in. And once inside, it would rip him limb from limb, gorging on his flesh and drinking his blood.

Hunter allowed himself an embarrassed laugh and attempted to pull himself together. He sat up straighter against the headboard and used a corner of the top sheet to dab at the beads of sweat still gathering on his forehead. "Yes?" he called out.

With a creak, the door opened a crack and Lori Schmidbauer, his grandmother's nurse, peered in. Even backlit, Hunter could see the kindness in the woman's dark brown eyes and the concern and sadness on her face. She glanced down the hall and then back toward him, gave him a tentative smile.

"Hunter? Honey, I'm so sorry to wake you. Can I come in?"

Hunter pulled the sheet up further, covering his chest. A new kind of alarm began inside, the dread beginning to churn like something alive in his guts. "Is everything okay?"

Lori didn't respond. She simply tiptoed into the room and sat down gingerly on the edge of his bed. Hunter leaned over and switched on the nightstand lamp. Lori still wore her scrubs and her curly brown hair was pulled loosely into a ponytail. She looked tired. Hunter repeated his question and added to it. "Is everything okay? Is Nana all right?"

Lori clutched his hand, squeezed it, and let it go. "I don't think so, dear." She stared off at a point over Hunter's head and he could see her eyes glistened with tears.

It felt like his stomach dropped a couple of feet. He bit his lip. "Is it time?"

Lori drew in a quivering breath before responding. "Yeah. I think it is." She stood. "You better come now if you want to say goodbye."

"Okay," Hunter whispered, barely able to find breath to put behind the single word. For his whole twenty-two year life, his grandmother had been his savior, protector, shield, comforter, mother, father, playmate, and teacher. There actually was a monster outside his door, and its name was cancer. That monster was about to rip all he held dear away from him.

Lori waited on the bed, watching him. He could tell she was trying to gauge his reaction, to see if perhaps he would need a hug. Lori was the kind of nurse that was free with her hugs. A good woman. But right now, Hunter needed a moment to himself and he told her that.

"Sure, sweetheart. Just don't be too long." She got up and paused at the door. "I don't know how much time we have." Sorrowfully, she nodded, her lips coming together in a line indicating sympathy. She took her time leaving his room, then he heard her quickened pace as she hurried down the long hallway to his nana's bedroom.

Hunter didn't know if he could do this. Part of him thought if he just stayed here in bed, he could delay or prevent the inevitable. If he could only freeze time at this moment, he would never have to face a world without Nana in it. He shook his head and chastised himself for being weak. To every season, he thought, there is an end.

Feeling numb, Hunter roused himself from bed. He slid into the jeans and sweater he had left on the rocker by the window. He looked outside, where the inky darkness revealed nothing, a void. He knew Lake Michigan was out there and in the morning it would reveal itself in aqua or gray, depending on the quality of light, but right now it seemed as though the huge body of water had vanished. The night's darkness pressed against his windows like something palpable, aching to get inside.