The Dream Crusades

Book Three of the Great War Saga

Michael B. Schwartz

Darkness

She was running from the sounds that frightened her. It was these sounds that have been tormenting for – well, she couldn’t remember a time in her past when she didn’t have these ghastly nightmares. She didn’t understand why God would curse her with the images she received in her dreams.

Mykella had been running up the embankment of a creek until her legs couldn’t take any more and so she dropped onto her bare knees and drove her fists into the dirt beneath the water.

Everything was silent except for her breathing and her heartbeat which could be heard inside her ears.  She lowered her head and felt like weeping. For twenty years she had been haunted by images of non-tormenting things like the jungle she was in or sitting in a park with the sun beating down on her face.

These dreams she could almost not bear; in her short life, she had grown accustomed to living with them. They were images of a life that did not exist. Those flying feathered creatures – once known as birds – just didn’t exist in her world. She had never been in a park or even ventured near a jungle – if they were even real.

No; Mykella Brown, like the other humans, did not believe in such positive images. She had her human cataloging number branded on her left forearm to remind her that the world she knew as reality was controlled by the army of Dreamkillers and that their master – everyone’s master – keeps himself locked away inside his enormous fortress.

Chapter 1

Mykella opened her eyes about the same time she always had and they looked up and were peering into the concerned face of her father.

Once he knew she was safe, Vince turned from her and made his way to the water pot next to the stove. “Was it the same dream?” he asked with his back to the twenty year old Mykella.

“I just wish I understood them,” she said and stood up off the cot which she had used as her bed for as long as she could remember. “I’m getting restless.”

After he turned on the faucet, he turned toward her and rested his body against the counter. He looked at her with pity in his eyes. “I know, dear,” he almost whispered. “I know.”

No one really knew when the world changed. When he looked into her eyes, he could remember a time – he thought he might have been the same age as Mykella is now – when he was in college. Growing up for Vince was a dream everyone dreamt of now.

Now, there are but a few handful of humans left to roam this earth, and only because they have managed to stay under the radar of the Dreamkillers. Every now and then a news broadcast from the only underground network told stories of human rebellion where mass violence broke out against the oppressors.

And of these handfuls, only four knew the truth of what is to come. The final prophecy has yet to take place.

His thoughts went to his old professor. He didn’t know how much longer he would stay alive to remain as Watcher.

Krieger was pushing seventy-five now, but he still had the strength of a thirty-year-old. He was the one who had found Vince the run-down apartment they were hiding out in.

It was only a three room efficiency located in the heart of Old Chicago. The rooms bore holes in the walls and mice used to scurry here and there; but on the brighter side, there were no roaches or termites in this hell hole.

“Have the others checked in yet?”

Vince looked up from his thoughts, heart sinking. He had never wished to raise Mykella this way. He wanted for her to have what all fathers want for their children, a normal childhood. Friends.

But no; Orion had to smash those wishes almost immediately after she had been born.

He remembered the castle erected first. He saw it on the television just as soon as it was sighted by the satellites. In just one day it had been constructed. No one knew how, and soon no one cared or thought more about it. Orion had altered Time so that his kingdom had always been there.

Orion seemed to have forgotten, only in the beginning, about those humans who had survived his onslaught. He soon decided that those humans should be slaughtered mercilessly.

For twenty years he has been searching for those humans who were strong enough to have lived.

“Have they come back yet?” Mykella repeated and stood up to make her way to the water pot.

“Not yet,” he answered and handed her a cup. “Chris has another hour of scouting and Karl hasn’t given word on the new allegiance.”

Chris Fergenson. She had chosen the task of looking for remaining humans who haven’t fallen to their deaths at the hands of the ruthless Dreamkillers. Her task was, at times, suicidal; for a new wave of Dreamkillers have emerged since Orion’s reign. They look like humans which makes her task all the more difficult. She still contested that if a human uprising would occur, they needed as many people on their side.

And that was Karl Ramses’ occupation now. Once word got back to them regarding humans, Karl approaches them and tries to win them over to their cause; which, like Chris, wasn’t always an easy task. On more than one occasion he had gotten into a fight with a Dreamkiller.

As Vince watched Mykella drink her water, he wondered where Krieger was. His professor rarely checked in these days. In fact, it began about a year ago.

Krieger had said he was going to try and find some way to stop Orion, but wouldn’t return for several weeks. At first, Vince questioned him, only to receive an answer like: “Has it been that long?”

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Vince didn’t know how long Krieger could play the dumb old man routine. In fact, after a year, it has started to get as old as the man himself.

It doesn’t matter, thought Vince. The past is what it was. Now the future is all that matters.

During her twenty years, Vince, nor her other Watchers, explained to Mykella her part in the war. She didn’t seem to remember any of her dreams she had shared with a younger Vince when she was inside her mother’s womb; so they didn’t burden her with the truth.

As she brought the cup up to her lips, Vince stole a glimpse at the numbers branded into her forearm and pitied Mykella some more.

There had been a time, so long ago it seems now, that all humans, Vince and the Watchers included, had been captured by Dreamkillers and had been taken to Orion’s kingdom by night. They hadn’t seen the beast, himself, but had been taken into the dungeons where they had been branded different numbers by hot pokers.

Strange enough, it had been a single nun who had rescued them from captivity – and certain death. Vince vaguely remembered this woman from twenty years prior as Sister Agnes.

How she found them and entered the castle undetected was another mystery. But even then, Mykella’s secret destiny was kept a secret from her.

He looked at his watch and an instant anxiety overcame him when he realized that Chris should have returned by now. Was she safe, or was she killed? He must wait, he knew, for if he jumped the gun so to speak, too early, it would raise suspicion and bring forth the attention they have for so long hidden from.

In fact, if she didn’t return by nightfall, Vince would assume that she had become another victim to their enemy.

Mykella finished her water, placed the cup on the cracked counter, and went to the other room and peered inside the darkness. She registered the body lying on the mattress and looked back at her father.

“How is she?”

Vince stared at Mykella for a moment and then fixed his eyes on a hole in the wall beside her.

Samantha had fallen ill shortly after their rescue from Orion’s Keep. Since there was no one in the medical field left alive, all they could do was hope for the best.

“She’s eating again,” he said and turned his back on her. He never once let her see his tears; and they were falling now as he was forced to think of Samantha, the only woman he had ever truly loved.

She was dying, he knew, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it or slow it down.

He sighed and forced himself not to wallow too much in misery. He was Mykella’s Watcher, as was Chris and Karl, and he must force himself to remember that. There was nothing he could do for Samantha.

“Dad, look at me,” she said. “Please.”

He turned around and saw the tears begin to well in her eyes as they were in his. She very seldom called him Dad, for he was not her father. But since her birth, he had taken on that role.

“There’s nothing more we can do for her,” he said and walked over to her.

She broke down and fell into his open arms.

Mykella had just been an infant when they were taken into the dungeons so she had no memory of being there; just the damned number on her forearm to tell her that she had been there.

Vince really didn’t expect Samantha to have lived as long as she had, but by some higher power, she keeps on struggling to stay alive. He also wondered if it were such a good thing; living in a world such as this?

They had to be on the look-out every second they left their apartment. They couldn’t trust anyone. Food was scarce, if not impossible to find at times. Orion had wiped out any existence of edible animals, save for the rats that were undoubtedly full of diseases. Even the birds; they had been extinguished like a flame.

Why Orion had chosen to do this, no one was certain. Some believe that, by killing the birds, he has smashed all hope for humans. But for the past twenty years, Vince and his friends had lived without detection.

Vince glanced down and saw the rag wrapped around his left forearm was coming loose; hiding the number he had been branded with. He unwrapped it, straightened it, only catching the slightest glimpse of his number, and rewrapped his arm.

“What was life like before I was born?”

He released her and looked into her green eyes. He patted her red hair and smiled. She had asked this question at least twice a week and it never bothered him to reminisce upon a more simple life. 

“Freedom,” he said and closed Samantha’s door. He went back into the kitchen and sat down in a wooden chair. “Orion had always been around; but he never bothered with nature.”

He stood back up and poured himself another cup of water. “Birds flew in the sky and animals roamed wherever they wanted. We were allowed to do whatever we wanted – within the laws of the government, that is. It seems that Dreamkillers appear every twenty years or so – that’s what I believe.”

“No,” she interrupted and went over to him and sat down in a chair opposite his. “I don’t want to hear about the bad things. I just want to close my eyes and lose myself in the life you had.”

Vince nodded and sat back down. “We drove around in cars, trucks, buses – almost anything with wheels and an engine. Planes flew in the sky alongside the birds.”

“What about the people; were they nice?”

“Mostly,” he smiled. “If you counted the entire population of Earth, then yes, people were nice to one another. Some countries were at war with another, but as a whole, yes, nice.”

“What did people wear?”

“Anything they wanted, really. Whatever suited their cultures, they wore.”

That was new to her. He had never mentioned the term culture to her before. “What do you mean, culture?”

Like any parent, Vince was not only a father and Watcher, but he was also her teacher and mentor as well. He sat back, ignoring the creaking of the chair, and thought about how to explain culture without offending anyone at what he didn’t know himself.

But before he could give any definition, the front door opened and they turned quickly in its direction, relieved when they saw Chris and Karl enter the apartment.

Vince stood up. “You guys all right?”

Chris made her way over to the cot, sat down, and lowered her head. She remained motionless except her head, which shook from side to side.

“Chris?” Vince went over to her and sat down next to her. “What’s wrong?”

“The Southern Barrens,” replied Karl as he went over to the sink and turned on the water.

“What happened there?” Vince turned and looked at Karl. He waited impatiently as Karl washed his hands. That was when Vince noticed the blood streaming into the sink.

“When we got there,” Karl turned around and dried his hands with a near-by towel. “There was a civil war between them. East-Southern and West-Southern. We got them to stop fighting long enough to talk to them, but,” he trailed off and looked out the only window in the apartment, above the sink.

Chris sighed and looked at Karl. “We were ambushed.”

“Dreamkillers?” Vince really didn’t need to know.

Chris nodded. “They came from the north.”

“It was a plea bargain,” Karl cut in. “Someone from the West. They wanted freedom in exchange for…us!”

“Jesus Christ,” murmured Vince. “They’re onto us then.” He stood up and went to Samantha’s door and bent his head closer to make sure she was still sleeping. He turned back to his friends. “Then what happened?”

“We got out alive,” Karl replied. “Barely.”