I was jolted awake by the limousine abruptly stopping, accidentally hitting my head against the headrest of my seat.
“Are you all right, Miss Jason?” said the driver, his long, middle-aged Japanese face peering at me.
Rubbing the back of my head, I said, “I’m okay, Nomura. I just sort of dozed off for a moment.”
Nomura, the driver, nodded. “I see. Did you get enough sleep last night?”
I hesitated. I’d had the nightmare again last night, which seemed weird because I usually only experienced it once a week after taking my Super Pill dosage. It had definitely interrupted my sleep, not helped by the fact that I didn’t know what brought it on. Perhaps the stress from the airplane hijacking had gotten to me worse than I thought?
But I hadn’t told Nomura, my guide and bodyguard, about it an
