Chapter Three

Vince went back to his dorm and grabbed a quick shower before Karl returned from his class. During his shower he had to force himself not to burst out into tears. The guilt was lying heavy on his chest. He should never have been so rude to his father. He should have believed in what he had written. If the Dreamkillers themselves never really existed, he was sure his father believed in some creature controlling the realm of nightmares.

He finished his shower and dried off. After pulling on fresh clothes he walked back to his room only to see Karl on his own bed talking on the phone. When he looked up, “Hey, I gotta go,” and he quickly hung up the phone. As he watched his friend cross the small room he sighed. “How’s your Dad?”

Vince flinched as if struck and he turned to look at Karl. “Better off dead,” he said and grabbed his book bag. “But he’s alive.” He grabbed several books and shoved them into the bag and then reached for Pison. He glanced back at Karl. “Know anyone who can read this?” he asked as he tossed the book next to his friend.

Karl grabbed it and opened it. He flipped through the aged pages and shook his head. “I don’t think so. Maybe Brenda – she’s into Cultural Economics. Maybe she’s seen someone using this language.” He tossed the book back to Vince.

Vince had never been very fond of Brenda. She was a long-legged, long-haired woman with dark eyes that seemed to pierce through your head the moment you walked within a yard of her. Big Brother doesn’t have anything on this young woman – she could probably spot thoughtcrime a mile away.

“Thanks,” was all Vince could think of saying. “I’m going to stay with Dad for a little while longer – make sure he’s in stable condition before I come back,” he said and headed for the door.

“Take care,” Karl called out and Vince nodded and then walked out into the hallway.

It wasn’t his father he was thinking of as he walked through the crowded hall of his dorm building; it was the mystery book hidden next to his back. Languages could be sifted through and then translated. One could look at early English literature and think that Beowulf or The Canterbury Tales, in their original text, was written by aliens from another world.

And then a completely different thought found its way inside his already-overloaded head. He still had to contact the insurance company about the house fire. He looked down at his watch and saw that it was early afternoon. He still had time to make the call when he arrived back at the hospital.

Instead of going straight to the hospital, he had decided to go to the library for the rest of the afternoon looking through the book. When it was time for Professor Krieger’s class to let out, he waited until everyone exited the room – turning his back when he saw Chris – and then entered the large room.

“Professor Krieger?”

Krieger looked up and stopped collecting his books and smiled as Vince walked up to him.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Of course. I’m very sorry to hear about your father.”

Vince didn’t know what to say and settled on, “Thanks.”

“What can I do for you today?”

Vince handed his professor the book he had been laboriously trying to comprehend. “I just wondered if you could help me with this. I found it in my Dad’s house, but I can’t read it.”

Krieger took it and studied the cover. “Fascinating,” he whispered. “It does exist.”

“You know it, then?” Vince was shocked and relieved at the same time. He had not expected anyone to have heard of such a book.

“Well, I’ve,” Krieger cleared his throat and then talked as he kept his eyes on the book. “I’ve read it in another book. I knew it had to exist, but no, I’ve never actually seen it.”

“Where have you heard of it before?”

Krieger turned and looked Vince in the eyes. “From your father’s book. He wrote a lot about it.”

Vince didn’t want to talk about his father; not now, anyway. “Is it possible for someone, dead, to come into dreams?” He thought of a different approach, knowing the answer to that question. “I mean, to have a will of their own?”

“I don’t need to answer that, Vince. Is your father already visiting you? Has he died?”

“No. It’s my mother.”

“Your mother?”

Vince sat down in a chair by his table. “I’ve only seen one picture of her. An old school picture in a yearbook. She looks older in my dream. Can a person dream of a real person and never know what they look like?”

“Vince,” Krieger sat down on the table. “The divine have powers we couldn’t possibly understand. It’s very possible that this woman is your mother. But why she has chosen an older image, I don’t know.”

“She claims not to have died – not in a mortal sense.”

“What does she say happened to her?”

“That she’s chosen a new path to follow. As Guardian to the Forbidden Realms. Whatever that means.”

“Dear Lord,” Krieger exclaimed and stood up. “Do you know what this means, Vince?”

Vince was getting annoyed by the cross examination and he stood up as well. “No, Professor. That’s why I’ve come to see you. What does it mean?”

“The Forbidden Realms is not a metaphor. It is another way to address Eden. It means that Eden is a forbidden territory, or realm, that should not be entered by mortals,” explained Krieger.

Krieger handed the book back to Vince. “Something is happening to you Vince. I don’t believe that it's a coincidence that you find this book the same time your mother comes to you.”

Vince took the book and looked down at it. “What does it all mean?”

“Vince,” they looked at one another and Krieger could see the concern in Vince’s eyes. “I think you really need to listen to her. It’s time for you to make a stand. You need to choose what you believe in.”

When he reached the outside world he instantly looked up into the darkened clouds. They looked like rain clouds, but there was an uneasy feeling that washed over Vince. His stomach began quivering as if he were chilled. There was nothing unusual about the clouds. He cursed himself for being too sensitive.

He walked up to his car and noticed that all four tires had been slashed. In bright daylight! “Jesus Christ,” he murmured as instant anger overcame him and he walked around his car to survey the damage.

He bent down and ran his hand over the front passenger tire and shook his head in disgust when he saw how wide the cut had been. In the process of standing he spied an object glittering in the sunlight just behind the tire. Grabbing it, he studied the peculiar blade in his hand.

Vince corrected himself – this was a dagger, not just a blade. He turned it over in his hand several times. The design was crude but beautiful. The blade protruded from the mouth of a golden snake with ruby eyes.

Surely this was the same instrument that crippled his car. The perpetrator probably saw someone coming toward them and they dropped the dagger in an attempt to flee the scene.

Right now he had to call AAA and have his car towed to a tire store, and then make a report to the police. Then he would have to make that all-important call to the insurance agent. All this didn’t leave much time to himself to study his precious book until much later.

The tow truck arrived later and he waited for another hour for his tires to be replaced. As he waited, he called the police and they met him at the tire store to fill out the report. He spent the rest of his time talking to the insurance agent about the fire. He told him that he would have to contact the fire house or police department about the cause of the fire as he wasn’t informed yet.

Finally he was ready to head back to the hospital.

Like before he found himself sitting in that uncomfortable chair next to the window. The nurses came and went as the day drew into evening. He never talked to a single one of them – there was no need. His own eyes could see how his father was doing; he didn’t need sympathetic nurses to tell him that his father was still breathing.

As the light in the room was extinguished, he turned on the small lamp next to the chair and pulled out the book he had been eager to solve.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

Once again he studied the cover and came to the conclusion that nothing out of the ordinary struck him. He thumbed through the pages and stopped on one at random. He attempted to read what was written but sighed after several minutes and closed the book. What was so special about this book? It was like opening Pandora’s Box, he thought.

Then he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He pulled it out and read who was calling before answering and was surprised to see that Samantha was calling. He quickly answered her call.

If she had not been spoken for, Vince knew that he would have asked her out on a date. The two of them were almost inseparable; at least, they used to be before she moved into her own place. She had moved into the neighborhood when she was twelve and they had become the best of friends once their parents began dating.

Although their parents only lasted a short several months, Vince and Samantha remained friends.

“Hello?” he asked.

“Hey, it’s me. You wanted me to shove my nose into the fire – it started in the attic,” she said all in a quick breath.

“The attic? Wonder what he was doing up there.” He let his eyes trail around the room searching for clues and finding none.

“They couldn’t tell me anything definite, but they believe that the actual fire was started by your father and it spread out of control.” She let him ponder this before continuing. “What’re you thinking?”

Vince blinked and then thought of something. “He was burning something he wanted to get rid of, that’s for sure. You want to go to the house with me in the morning?”

“What? We can’t just walk into a condemned house – it’s not safe,” she said in hopes of getting through his head.

He smiled. “I’ve already been there. ‘Sides, it’s perfectly safe, it just doesn’t smell all that great.” There was a pause from her end. “I need to find out what’s going on. This isn’t just your average fire. I don’t know – I have a feeling that he was a target for murder.”

“Oh yeah, by who?” she countered in a mocking tone.

A tone in which Vince became irritated. “Fine. If you don’t believe me, fine. But I’m going back in the morning with or without you.”

“Okay…okay. You win,” she began and sighed. “I’ll go, but you pick me up.”

“Eight?”

“All right. I’ll be ready at eight.”

Vince smiled at this. “You know I love you, right?”

“You better. I don’t go running into burnt houses just for fun. At least, not since the baby.”

He chuckled and they said their good-byes. He smiled to himself at the many memories he and Samantha shared. But at the same time, he felt his finger running along the letters on the cover of the book in his lap.

He placed his phone on the window sill and leaned back, as best as he could, in the chair and stared down at the book. Again he opened it to no page in particular and sat staring down at the alien script.

His eyes followed the bizarre “letters” until he felt them close while his hand held the book open on the same page.

And then he felt a soft ivory hand fall down upon his and he jerked his eyes open. What he was looking at surprised him in ways he had never been surprised before. There was an air of angelic beauty surrounding her. And there was something else.

She bent down; her long red hair had fallen into his face. He caught an instantaneous whiff of her before she pulled back slightly.

“Who,”

“Close your eyes,” she said and he did so like an obedient dog. With her hand, she moved his index finger over the letters on the page. “Don’t open your eyes to the letter, rather use your senses. Each page represents a series of letters – nothing more. But a code is hidden inside. And that is what the Dreamkillers wanted the book for.”

He let all feeling go and he let her hand guide his finger. There was an odd sensation that he had just drawn the letter G And then the letter L had followed. Vince opened his eyes and saw that, although he could see the alien script, he could also see how the script had connected to produce the two letters. They were hidden under so much nonsense that it was almost impossible to see. Actually, he would never have found it had this woman not shown him.

He stood up and was about to inquire about her name, but when he stood up he suddenly became aware that he was no longer standing in his father’s hospital room.

One quick look and he knew that he was in his attic before it had been engulfed in flames. Vince glanced to his side and saw that the young woman – here, too, he became aware that this was a girl no more than twenty – followed him here.

“Who are you?” he finally asked and she looked over at him without emotion.

“Mykella.”

Vince nodded and looked around the room. He saw a metal trash can in the center of the room and saw that it was empty. This must be shortly before the incineration, he thought. And this sparked another question and he turned to face the girl; it’s odd to even call her a girl when she’s about his own age. “Do you know why we’re here?”

She turned pink in embarrassment and shook her head as she lowered it. “I thought you knew,” she answered.

He nodded again and looked around once again. His eyes reverted back to Mykella and he studied her more closely. There was something about her but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. There was something in her manner that he thought he recognized. “Are you a Dream Crusader?” he found himself asking.

“A what? Dream Crusader – I don’t even know what that is,” she replied.

He smiled at her naïveté. “To be honest with you; I’m not sure what that means either. My mother told me the other day that I was going to meet one, but she didn’t tell me anything else – like what she would look like,” he explained and saw that Mykella was automatically grasping a necklace in her tiny hand.

He walked up to her and asked if he could see her necklace. She hesitated but let it slip through her fingers. Vince reached out and took the golden crucifix in his hand. He stared down at the crucified Christ and then up at the young woman. “You think He saved my dad?”

“He survived, didn’t he?” she rebutted. “Besides, he escaped the sleepwalker; but soon the sleepwalker will awaken.”

“Who’s this sleepwalker?”

She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. “Haven’t a clue. But I do know he’s after your father.”

If it wasn’t for his phone ringing, Vince might not have awakened in time to pick up Samantha. As it was, he answered the phone and jumped up when Samantha asked him if he was still going to pick her up. He confirmed that he was and turned off his phone and sprinted out of the room without looking at his father whose eyes watched his son run from the room.

* * *

They reached the house forty minutes later and he saw that she was staring up at the house with concern in her eyes. He smiled and opened his door. “Don’t worry – it’s perfectly safe.”

She glanced at him in shock.

She followed him inside the house, making sure she checked everything twice, including her footing. She watched him disappear up the stairs and she went after him behind reluctance. “I really think this is a bad idea,” she called up to him.

Once they met at the second floor landing, he reached up and pulled a cord which dropped the ladder into the attic.

A new look of panic swept over Samantha and she reached for his hand. “Don’t make me go up there.”

He looked up and began climbing the ladder. “I’m not making you do anything. You can stay here if you want,” he said and continued up until he entered the blackened attic.

If the fire wasn’t contained in a trash can, the floor might not have been saved. But all that was destroyed were the inside walls, ceiling, and the large circular window which had been shattered when firefighters crashed through.

He made his way over to the window and looked down at the street below and then heard something behind him. He turned and saw Samantha crawling up onto the floor and he smiled.

“So, what the hell are we looking for anyway?” she asked when she stood up.

“Not sure,” he said and a glitter of gold caught his eyes. He looked at the shards of glass remaining in the window frame and saw a small golden crucifix necklace placed around one of the shards. He bent down and picked it up.

He studied it for a while and then whispered, “Mykella.”

Samantha looked over at Vince. “Who’s Mykella?”

He shook his head and put the necklace in his pocket. “Not sure,” he said. He stood upright and turned back to the trash can and walked over to it.

“Pretty name, though,” she murmured and met him at the can and they looked in and saw that it was filled almost half way with ash.

A moment of silence overcame the two while he stared into the ash. His eyes darted over to the closet at the other end of the room and then they fell back into the ashes. “Someone else’s been in here,” he almost whispered and then dove his hands into the can and began waving them around searching for a needle in the haystack.

“Well, yeah. Your dad’s been here and the fire marshal too, probably,” she said as she watched him playing in the ashes. “What’re you doing?”

“No. The closet door is open – it’s never open. In fact, that door’s been busted for as long as I can remember. It won’t open,” he said and stopped moving his hands. “And I’m looking for anything that’ll tell me what he was burning.”

He pulled his hands out and shook them clear of excess ash and saw what it was he brought up. It was an entire piece of paper written in his father’s hand of notes and dates. On the bottom of the page his father had written a simple question: Are they dead? Has Tracy and Emily really died, or are they someplace else?

He folded the paper and shoved it in his pocket and looked around the room once again. He turned and walked over to the open closet and gently put his hand on the door. He paused and then swung it the rest of the way and moved back.

Samantha walked up behind him and peered into the dark room. “What the hell’s been living in here?” she asked and quickly covered her mouth and nose from the strong odor rolling from the closet.

Vince had to shield the awful smell, too, but he kept looking inside. From top to bottom and along all walls there had been yellow-green pus which had been splattered everywhere. There was not an inch of the closet which wasn’t covered. The decayed bodies of moths, large crickets, and June bugs had been splayed about; their blood drained from their tiny carcasses.

How he had never noticed the smell before he could not understand. He turned and looked over at Samantha who had stood by the open window. “Let’s get out of here,” he suggested and she nodded and started for the ladder.

Taking one final look around, he sighed and followed her down.

After their departure, Allen stepped out of the shadows of the closet and chuckled to himself at how Rick’s son had grown up. With his finger he wiped off some of the pus and brought it to his mouth and began sucking on it. Still sucking, he made his way over to the shattered window and watched Vince and Samantha leave the house and drive away.