Chapter 6

Chapter 6: The Dream

    I awoke with an aching stiffness in my lower back.  It was like I was sleeping on...a sidewalk?  I took a moment to examine my surroundings, and I could tell I was in a large urban setting.  The air was thick with ash and soot, and there was an eerie violet glow cast over the city.  I Couldn't make out the time of day.  It was as if I were in Chicago, if Chicago was relocated to Neptune or something.  It was a desolate feeling and the fact that I was on the verge of asphyxiation did nothing to alleviate my oncoming panic attack. 

    I couldn't see another living soul in any direction that I looked.  Just the wind picking up a stray scrap of newspaper and an eerie hum that came from no discernible direction.  I did my best to push out the wellspring of fear that was forming inside of me.  The windows on the buildings looked smashed or decayed. It looked like a dystopian urban setting that was long abandoned, or its inhabitants were killed in some kind of futuristic holocaust.  The nearby Savings and Loans bank seemed the most convenient place to seek shelter.   

    The inside of the building was covered in darkness but still managed to produce a violet glow that illuminated nothing.  I stayed as near to windows as I could to maintain some degree of visibility but that invited the ash filled air that felt like it was choking me more by the second.  I could make out a table that contained the deposit/withdrawal slips with some masking tape and tried to cover my face with a makeshift mask.  It did little to ameliorate my condition, but it did something at least.  With nothing useful or visible, I trudged back out into the street seeking a more suitable place to gather my bearings. 

    I marched down the street trying to find something that looked suitable to protect my breathing with.  While I staggered from place to place, I noticed that many of the cars looked like burnt out husks, lampposts were toppled, and there were no people or animals.  Just a desolate city.  When I glanced upward to the sky, I found that I could not focus my eyes on the skyline.  It was like being blinded by a very low light.  My best comparison would be staring into an extremely low wattage light bulb for 6 hours.  Oddly the sun was more of silhouette than a well-defined object.  It was just this outline of a slightly darker violet disk hovering in the predominantly cloudy sky.

    Purpose kept me moving.  Finding some kind of clue that would inform me of why I was here.  Hope kept me moving.  Hope that I would wake back up in the camp and go about a normal day of fighting demonically possessed super cannibals.  As I walked up the street, I found something that caught my eye.  It looked like a World War 2 era propaganda poster. It featured a happy young boy's face and a stern looking hand in front of it.  The poster read: “Save your children from themselves!  Do not allow subversive or dangerous literature into your home!”  There was the circle with a line through it that I normally associated with cigarettes, but instead, it was a menacing looking book. 

    I really liked that poster, it made me feel comforted to know that those raving mad artists were being kept in check.  Maybe if people read the damn poster instead of “subversive literature,” then this city would be in top shape.  I pushed aside my sardonic musings and continued ahead with my face crammed full of paper.  Maybe it was panic or shock, or maybe my lungs were getting acclimated to the strange atmosphere here, but I started to gain my stride as I walked.   

    My vision was drawn to an old-time looking pawn shop on the left side of the street right before a four-way intersection.  I decided I would check it out.  The light pouring through the metal screens on the front of the pawn shop gave the combination of visibility and protection I desired.  I wasn't sure if I hadn't noticed before, but it was kind of chilly out here. I stepped into the doorway and noticed that the door was locked but warped enough that a solid kick would grant me entry.  With a smash, the door opened effortlessly.   

    What caused an involuntary shudder, was the fact that there was virtually no echo.  It was like what should have been an uncomfortably loud sound was muffled.  I got a creeping sensation that the Laws of Physics were kind of an informal guideline here rather than a hard and fast system.  I shook the feeling off and braced myself for anything inside.  The obscurity of darkness was a serious problem, but I could still make out the rough shapes of shelves, stacked boxes, and a desk with a cash register.  The light from outside was shining off the silver register.  It looked like one of those antique registers you would see in an Old West style pharmacy.  The violet light gave it a unique shine. 

    I looked around the display window and found all manner of oddities.  Some of the items looked like congealed organs in mason jars, others looked like elaborate children's toys or miniature models. I saw a large stack of unusual looking playing cards, and a 6 wheeled bicycle that looked like it was only good for injuring the rider in a spectacular fashion.  I wondered if this was some kind of fetish store, or if this kinda stuff was just standard merchandise in this city.  Where the hell was I? 

    I continued searching the store with no good answer for that question.  I rummaged through boxes that I dragged near the windowsill.  There were dozens of shirts that, when held up to the light read, “I voted for Santiago!”   They included a big thumbs up.  I took off the polo shirt that Dr. Sprinkles gave me and tossed one on.  It was a bit large, but it gave me a sense of wellbeing to consider myself politically active. The remaining boxes were stuffed with all manner of junk that was of no use to me.   

    I carefully searched by use of tactile senses to find anything of use on the shelves behind the counter.  Fortune smiled on me, and I discovered a flashlight.  I clicked it on and shined the shaft of light across the store.  The wind outside seemed to howl balefully at my brief moment of euphoria.  I got a cold sense of dread.  I could feel it at the base of my neck and in my gut.  It was unconscious knowledge that I had entered a world that stole joy.  I attempted to test my wild theory by thinking about some of my happiest memories.  Nothing came to mind, and the more I thought, the worse I felt. 

    I directed my actions to more pragmatic concerns.  I found nothing else useful.  No food or traveling supplies.  Just knick-knacks, oddities, and assorted collectibles.  I found a door at the back of the store.  I turned the knob, and it opened without resistance.  I guess I was getting used to locked doors.  The door led to a staircase that ascended into darkness.  Armed with my new flashlight I climbed the stairs without hesitation.  The stairs abruptly placed another door in front of me.  It was covered in grime and a strange orange greasy substance.  I opened the door and entered the threshold. 

    I examined my surroundings and was surprised to see a room proportionally sized to the floor below.  All that sat in the room was an aged looking sofa and round table in front of it.  On the table, papers were haphazardly strewn about with a large map covering most of the surface area of the table. I pointed the flashlight at the papers and sat down.  The sofa creaked in protest.  It felt just a little bit colder than I remembered it being.  No change in the eerie violet glow lightly shining through the upstairs windows. 

    The map appeared to be a map of a city.  I had to presume it was the city that I was in.  The papers were written in scrawled handwriting.  Some of it even looked coded.  Certain words were replaced with symbols or confusing shorthand.  I gritted my teeth in frustration when I tried to make sense of it all.  From what I could tell, it looked like some sort of plan or clandestine operation.  Whatever was going on in this city, it reeked of civil unrest.  I also discovered some photographs of a device that looked disturbingly familiar.  It was a Daedalus Gate. 

    I felt compelled to shine the flashlight around the room a bit more.  I studied the walls in the room, through fastidious use of perception, made a discovery.  There was a spot on the wall left of the doorway entry where the sheetrock panel was askew.  While holding the flashlight with one hand, I was able to dislodge the errant panel.  I gasped when the light revealed what was in the alcove.  It was a huge pile of explosives.  Well, I think they were explosives.  I am no demolitions expert, you know.   

    I spent a few seconds trying to fathom why a curiosities shop was connected to some form of underground resistance.  Moreover, what force or intuition led me here of all places.  Perhaps if my mind was the construct of that reality, it would seem my subconscious was leading me to an escape route. Perhaps I was merely lucky.  I pushed the philosophical speculation out of my mind and rolled up the map from off the table.  I assumed the area circled in red marker was the location of the Daedalus Gate.  Moreover, since the explosives remained in the alcove, it was still intact.  Or so I reasoned. 

    Stumbling around the shop provided several blows to my shins by stray objects.  I stopped and grabbed another T-shirt from the box to use as a face wrap.  Breathing was a shock at first, but I found my breathing still remained a touch labored.  I tied the short sleeves around the back of my head and faced the outside world yet again.  With a map equipped in one hand, and flashlight in the other, I felt that I could at least be more prepared for anything.   

    The map's location matched the street I was on.  The red X that marked the location of the store was a handy bit of information as well.  According to the directions I would need to walk three blocks south.  The walk was uncomfortable and the silence around me seemed unnatural.  Something was feeding off the energy in the world.  Little ambient sounds that you don't really notice until they are gone, were just lacking.  Just the whistling of the wind occasionally, was my only companion.  The cold chill of the wind was the only tacit sensation I could feel.

    I did my best to alleviate this by humming a tune to myself.  It felt strained and forced.  Almost as if something was enforcing the strange silence.  I was approaching the 3rd block where I would need to take my first left turn.  The peculiar sense of coldness grew just a bit.  What made it so peculiar was the fact that it was not coldness contacting my skin.  It was like the coldness bypassed my exterior all together and wriggled into my insides.  Like a physical manifestation of fear. I would describe it as that chill you get when something makes you uncomfortable but with the consistency of an ongoing weather phenomenon.

    Pushing myself toward an objective was the only defense I had against the strange encroaching despair.  The odd purple light that came from the sky was stinging my eyes and I was forced to keep my gaze downward.  At last, the left turn came into view on Hallback Street.  One of the large faces of a brick wall on a burnt-out husk of a building had some chilling graffiti written on it.  “The end is at hand.  The Gates have ushered in our DOOM!”  The street artist clearly put a lot of time into a dazzling graphic of the word “DOOM.”  I wanted to critique his penchant for the dramatic, but he kinda had a point. 

    It was another couple blocks down Hallback Street, then a long trek down Sandalwood Ave.  Despite my need to keep my field of vision low, something else uncovered my interest.  It looked to be a small recreational or dog walking park on my right-hand side.  The park had small trees that appeared twisted, black, and leafless.  The gnarled bark looked twisted and shadowy.  I am loath to use an adjective like “evil” to describe a tree, but these trees looked just plain nefarious.  I couldn't tell if my eyes were just out of focus, but the trees rustled.  They were almost beckoning me to step closer to them.  I avoided them and nearly hugged the wall on the left sidewalk as I passed the park.  Then I noticed it.  The branches of the trees were growing and stretching toward me.

    As I continued to walk, the trees appeared to be stretching their limbs with an increased speed and length.  I was now convinced they were actually trying to attack me.  There was a sickening sensation that followed as they clawed and raced at me with alarming alacrity for flora. My speed hastened from jog, to run to full sprint.  The limbs were closing in on me.  I wasn't sure how far they were behind me because I was far too terrified to look backward.  Fear was circling in my mind.  The numb chill of the strange coldness in the air intensified.

    I ran for what seemed like a quarter mile.  At some point the limbs were just in my peripheral vision trying to tangle me up at my ankles.  I began leaping and running, doing everything in my power to evade the twisted black limbs.  After getting several more feet ahead, one of the limbs caught me around the shin and caused me to come tumbling down and land on my back.  I wasn't sure if this was how I was going to die, but I was really uncomfortable with the thought of being bested by a plant.

    The limb closed in on me as I butt scooted backward to the best of my ability.  I was just a few feet further back and then I was blessed by a bit of luck.  I guess the tree ran out of branch length or its ability to grow had reached its maximum.  I was able to breathe a huge sigh of relief as I realized that I was going to survive this horrible encounter. I picked myself up off the ground and began panting trying to regain my breath.  The twisted dark limb of the tree was still writhing and twitching violently in protest to my escape.

    I flipped the tree the bird and then resumed my travels.  It took me a couple minutes to regain my wind as I resumed my pace.  The joy of my victory was short lived as the discomfort and despair of this alien world continued to assault my senses.  I kicked an old aluminum can into the road as my trek continued down the road.  While I would normally recycle at this point, I had to forgive myself as I was uncertain of the location of the recycling center in this unknown city.  Some people might think I was just making excuses, but I will give myself a pass on that one. 

    Sandalwood Ave proved to be a long and arduous trek.  The sense of inner coldness grew with each passing step and the light became excruciating.  I considered using the mask as a blindfold, but I already was lacking in coordination.  The road eventually elevated as was raised above other streets in the city.  There were holes in the pavement that made walking around blindly an impossible task. I wasn't sure what happened to the people in the city. Spending more time pondering it than I had to seemed like a death sentence. 

    As I made my way closer and closer to the destination marked on the map, I was pretty sure the building was in view.  It looked to be a research center or laboratory of some kind.  Security looks like it was tight there, at some point in the past.  When I arrived however, there were abandoned watch towers, barbed wire, burnt out tanks, decayed armored personnel carriers, and not a soul in sight.  Not even a skeleton or remainder of a body.  In fact, since I had been here, it was as if death visited without bothering to leave a calling card.  Anyway, it seemed like an odd location for conducting such sensitive research, but this wasn't exactly Chicago.  Or maybe it was.  It wasn't exactly clear and many of the signs were faded or unclear.  Without the map to guide me, I probably would have been lost. And sadly, the name of the city was nowhere to be found on that map.

    I trusted my instincts that I was doing what would get me out of there.  The front gate was down but the guard booth was unmanned. I hoped I could simply waltz into the building, but no such luck.  The windows must have been sturdy because they remained undamaged.  Getting inside proved to be a challenge.  All of the entrances were locked and required some form of key card or ID badge.  I was forced to double back to the booth and search through the small building.  Just under a couple manila folders, I found what appeared to be a weathered security badge. 

    I swiped the door expecting the magnetic lock to open.  Unfortunately, the key slot was unresponsive.  I swiped the card several more times, like a desperate and obstinate child trying to get a candy bar from a vending machine with his library card.  To no avail.  I began searching around the perimeter of the building trying to locate a suitable entrance.  I silently cursed myself for leaving the bombs at the shop.  It was easy to forgive myself though, I would have no idea what the hell I was doing. 

    The most promising lead I discovered was a manhole within the confines of the facility grounds.  I noticed that there was a rusted padlock on the exterior of the lid.  My foot made some progress in loosening the twisted metal, but the butt end of the metal flashlight was the ideal tool to implement.  With a couple minutes of primitive smashing under my belt, the lock was broken, and I stripped it off.  Looks like I would be descending into a sewer complex.  I held my breath as I climbed the ladder downwards. 

    There wasn't really an odor of any kind to my relief.  The water inside the tunnel was roughly ankle deep but chilled me to my core. The coldness was continuing to creep up on me.   I was forced to hunch over and measure my steps carefully.  The flashlight provided at least some comfort, but the confined space put me at unease.  The shadows in the periphery of my vision loomed and shifted with malefic intent.  I did my best to keep my breathing steady as I did a hunched walk through a tunnel for a lengthy journey.

    During the walk, the tunnel seemed to go on a gradual incline and the tunnel grew narrower.  I was covered in a disgusting sludge-like liquid that soaked my pant legs and hands.  I pressed on with growing determination.  The cold of the water and in the air around me was growing more oppressive by the second.  I felt like I was freezing from the inside out.  Normally, I would expect such a strained effort to keep me warm, but it felt like the opposite.   

    Finally, after crawling for what seemed like an eternity, I discovered a panel on the upper right side of the tunnel.  It was a hole that was meant for pumping liquid waste into the tunnel.  Whatever would normally be attached to cover it was unhooked and it provided a small portal to which I could exit.  Squeezing through the narrow hole proved to be quite a challenge.  I was struck with indecision of whether I should have chucked the flashlight up through the hole first.  If I couldn't make it, it would make the rest of the trip really awful.   

    I put my faith in my ability to wiggle out of tight situations.  I tossed the flashlight out of the portal and could hear it bang on the floor just a few feet below.  I reached my hands up and pulled my head out of the portal first.  It was a darkened room but there must have been an emergency backup system still in place.  There were small red lights flickering softly on the ground below.  I pulled myself upwards as most of my upper torso was outside the tunnel.  My midsection struggled against the narrow passage. 

    I wiggled and shimmied for quite a while.  I found that success was slow but progressive when I puffed my chest out and yanked my belly upwards.  The threaded metal of the pump entrance scraped against my skin causing painful abrasions.  I was spurred on by each painful centimeter that I progressed.  The next challenge was my waist and thighs.  Through a variety of different angles, speeds, and thrusts I was finally able to free myself from the tunnel.  The force of my exit caused me to tumble out onto the ground on my stomach.  It wasn't pretty or fun, but it was done. 

    I exited the strange pumping closet that I was in and began checking my surroundings.  The hallways were illuminated by similar red lights that flickered in time with one another.  I searched through a few offices and found a handful of different key cards that I could only hope still worked. Thankfully, with whatever power remained inside the building, they did.  I spent quite a while looking through supply closets, offices, laboratories, conference rooms, and other stations whose function baffled me.  It was when I reached the floor labeled 4F on the staircase that I found what I was looking for. 

    It was a setup similar to the one in Dr. Felter's personal cabin lab.  I was certain I was standing in front of a Daedalus Gate when I looked over the machine.  My chief concerns were how to get power to it, and what the hell buttons to push.  Even if an owner's manual existed, I doubt it would be comprehensible to me.  I struggle with technical directions or diagnostic systems. What can I say? I was a humanities major.

    As I struggled to stare at the buttons and assemble some kind of meaning for them, I had a breakthrough.  Or rather, something had a breakthrough to me.  The sound of metal grinding and windless force pressing against me filled the room.  A form took shape in the darkness. I shined a flashlight into the void and saw a familiar figure standing in front of me.  It was Monica.   She was standing in the doorway of one of the entrances to the lab.  “Hey Johnny, so good of you to join me.” I stood a bit slack jawed for a moment before clumsily replying, “Yeah.  Thanks for showing up.” 

    My mind was buzzing with questions.  She spoke quickly and expunged the confusion.  “We have to leave quickly.  This is not a good place to be.  I will speak to you more when you wake up.” I shrugged off my confusion and followed her to the platform.  She punched in a complex series of buttons on the exterior of the machine and hopped in with me before the enclosure closed.  The sensation of being yanked through time and space isn't one I would describe as comfortable.  Still, the second time wasn't as discombobulating as the first. 

I awoke back on my cot at the camp with just a touch of nausea.   

    It was dark out when I awoke.  I couldn't tell how long I had been asleep. I crept over to Laurie's cot and tried to wake her from her slumber.  “Psst, hey Laurie.  What time is it?  Have I been out long?”  I asked pleadingly.  She grumbled in irritation but said nothing and turned her back to me.  I decided that waking her wasn't in my best interest, so I exited the cabin into the warm summer night. 

    Some of the lights were on outside the lodge and I could see people still chatting around the outside of the building.  I could make out the flicker of a fire blazing inside the lodge through the windows.  I wasn't sure what I was looking for when I walked down to the lodge, but I was sure I didn't feel like going back to sleep.  With the queasiness in my stomach passed, I felt awake and alert. 

    I meandered down the dirt trail from the cabin to the lodge.  The crickets were chirping pleasantly, and it was a calm reprieve from the apocalyptic setting that I had just emerged from.  My eyes darted at the random people gathered around the lodge.  I recognized a couple of them Daryl and Ralph were both in good spirits, heartily laughing and drinking cheap beer.  I nodded to them, and they nodded back at me.  I walked through the large open doors of the lodge and saw what I was looking for.  It was Monica, sitting on one of the benches against the wall of the lodge. 

    Monica was looking right at the doorway expectantly.  I was certain that she was waiting for me. I tried not to let this fact make my skin crawl.  She scooted over to one side of the bench and looked at the empty space for me to fill the vacant spot.  I sat down and let out a nervous exhale.  There was a brief moment of tense silence.  I looked at her and asked what time it was.  She said it was just past 10.  A sickening moment of disbelief followed.  Hours passed at agonizing speed in the dream I just woke from.  I was under the impression that I had slept for over 24 hours, but I guess it was only one. 

    She looked at me with a very discerning look and began speaking. “I guess you must have had some dream.  I just saw you go inside the cabin a little while ago.  It looks like you have been asleep for days.”  She knew just how I felt.  She followed up her statement with a soft chuckle.  “Who is Santiago?”  Wide-eyed horror stole my face.  I looked down and the T Shirt I took from the pawn shop was still on my chest.  What puzzled me the most was the fact that my pant legs were still soaked from my pipe crawl, and I hadn't even noticed until I looked down.   

    Her tone took on a hushed tone as she continued, “David told me that you were traveling through worlds while you slept.  He told me that you would see places or times that no person has ever seen.”  I ran my fingers through my hair trying to shake off the alarm that her assessment inspired.  “I have no idea how to stop it,” I admitted.  She clutched my hand sympathetically and continued to relay what David had told her.   

    “David also told me that I am to be your guide.  You can get lost in your dreams and you can die or be lost there too.”  She let her last words linger in the air a little too long for my liking.  I shifted uncomfortably and her grip tightened.  “What you need to know is how to assemble your dreams into some meaning.  The places you go or see are not random Johnny.  It is a journey, and on that journey, you need to learn skills that can help us.  Without the knowledge of how to stop Thomas, he will destroy everything we care about.  The world will be corrupted and bathed in eternal twilight.”  My mind danced to the thought of the strange violet light in the strange dream world I just emerged from. 

    “It was so cold there.  Like I was freezing from the inside,” I relayed feeling more than a little forlorn.  She nodded expectantly and said, “That is because Thomas wants to drain the warmth of life.  He wants to eat our energy and leave us as hollow shells.”  I didn't have the faintest clue what that meant.  She sensed my confusion yet continued to speak.  “Thomas is, or was, a man.  A man that became a conduit between himself and an entity.  Some folks call him Azmodariel.  Azmodariel is sort of like an evil god.  He rules over his dominion and is always looking to engorge himself on other realities.”   

    So, he turned out to be some kind of maniacal cosmic vacuum cleaner. Check.  She took a deep breath and continued, “When Dr. Felter began experimenting with gate technology, he gave Azmodariel a key into our world.  That key unlocked certain doors.  One of those doors was inside a broken-hearted man by the name of Thomas Balthazar.  Once Azmodariel took over his mind, Thomas felt that he became all powerful and was given all of the knowledge of the universe.”  I interrupted her and asked what the connection between Thomas and Dr. Felter was. 

    She admitted that she didn't know how exactly they crossed paths but that their destinies were ultimately entwined. She couldn't explain how or why Thomas was chosen.  She also had a hazy understanding of a timetable, at best.   “So, Thomas wants to destroy the world?” I asked, attempting to summarize her information.  “Thomas isn't a creature of destruction.  More of a creature of entropy.  His aims are to cause things to wither and crumble slowly.  He sets things in motion that eat away at us...” She cleared her throat in an effort to shake the feelings that she was experiencing.  “I don't know much more than I told you.  David says he will speak to you when the time is right.”   

    I wanted to ask her about his cannibalism and about a thousand other details, but I could tell simply talking about the topic drained her.  I did manage to squeeze one more question out of her.  “Do you remember being in my dream?  Like, going through the gate.”  She gave me a unique expression of familiarity and confusion, then earnestly replied, “I think I knew on some level.”  With that, she trailed off into a partial state of stupor while I walked away from the bench.  I started walking toward the door and heard Monica call back out to me.  “Wait...Johnny.” 

    I turned back and saw her removing one of her pieces of shell jewelry.  She held it with her outstretched arm, and I approached to collect it.  “This amulet will help keep your sleep dreamless tonight,” she said in a voice that almost didn't sound to be her own.  I took the amulet in my hand and thanked her.  Amulet is a bit of an overstatement.  It looked like a piece of string with a single beach shell on it.  Still, I was willing to try anything to avoid falling back asleep to another dream like that one. 

    I walked up to the cabin and waved to a few other people on my way up the trail.  I couldn't deny that I got some answers but, as usual, it left me feeling like more questions were coming.  I hated that the most about my adventures.  Answers always led to more questions.  Life was becoming a never-ending series of SATs.  I stared at the ceiling of the cabin for a while simply listening to the crickets chirping as I drifted back to sleep.     

    Morning came and I got the dreamless sleep that I was promised.  Laurie was already up and making her bed when I was roused from my slumber.  “Morning,” she said pleasantly.  “Morning,” I replied trying to hide my relief that it was morning, and I was still there.  I think she noticed that display but said nothing.  Laurie was really adept at reading me.  She was also adept at not pressing issues and waiting for me to tell her. 

    I wasn't sure if there was any kind organization to the day here.  Sleeping in a camp atmosphere almost programmed me to feel like a kid being corralled into the next activity.  Sure enough, the PA welcomed in the new day and invited us to breakfast at the lodge in 30 minutes.  I got dressed and cleaned up in the bathroom facility several hundred feet from the cabin.  I met Laurie down by the lodge and we waited on a short line for some food. 

    The aroma of breakfast was intoxicating.  I chowed down several plates of the stuff before needing to stop.  Laurie averted her eyes from the shameful display of gluttony.  Monica sat near us but appeared to be in some kind of trance.  I couldn't get a handle on her.  I was petting my newly engorged belly and she turned my direction and said, “Johnny...”  Laurie and I both shot her puzzled looks.  “Johnny, you have to listen to the doctor.  Your mental health symptoms are worsening.” Laurie asked her if she could help in any way. 

    Monica just kept repeating my name, in the same tone one might expect to hear from a grieving mother. Everyone around me went silent and I swore something awful was about to happen.  While in the throes of a trance, Ralph clapped his hands on her shoulder loudly and exclaimed, “Snap out of it Mon!”  A few seconds later Monica gasped like she had been suffocating for the past two minutes.  Laurie and I excused ourselves to bring our trays up to the kitchen and go outside.   

    Laurie could see that I was visibly shaken by Monica's statement.  I didn't have it in me to explain the odd dream connection that we had.  It was something I was struggling to explain, myself.  She looked shaken up by it herself.  I assumed that her discomfort was centered in her own struggles with the mental institution.  Laurie and I walked out near the lake.  It was good to get some space from the small group of people standing outside and talking while looking right at us. 

    We walked over to a wooded area nearby that gave us shelter from the prying eyes of the others.  I tossed some rocks into the lake to distract myself for a few minutes.  Laurie sat on the ground and watched some of the birds flying around nearby.  I felt a pressing need to talk to her, but suppressed it and let the tranquility of the morning sun pull me out of the mood I was in.  Laurie appeared to be at peace as well.  I was beginning to see why Laurie had such a high opinion of this place. 

    The announcement of another group meeting stole our serenity.  “All persons please report to the lodge for announcements and headcount.”  We quickly retreated from our sanctuary and made our way back to the front of the lodge.  It took a couple minutes for everyone on the campgrounds to make their way down to the lodge.  David was standing in the doorway of the lodge, and the rest of the group was standing at the base of the small concrete stairs below.   

    David stood before everyone and had the look of someone trying to appear austere and benevolent.  I could tell this guy operated best in crisis situations.  He took a deep breath and started his standard introduction.  “Hi everyone!” He said in a tone that I was quickly becoming sure was a camp tradition.  “Hi David!” Everyone chanted in unison, repeating the same tone.  I did the same.  I got the sinking feeling that I was beginning to fit in.  Everyone stared at David expectantly for big news. 

    David looked at different members of the group trying to engage the entire group as he spoke.  This guy made a phenomenal demagogue.  “I have created a list of preparations that each person staying at the camp will undertake in an effort to prepare us for the inevitable worst that is to come.  I posted the list of duties inside the lodge.  When finished, I'll ask that you check the list to see what tasks you are assigned. I will be honest; there is a lot of work to do.”  Some of the group groaned but he didn't pause or lose his stride. 

    “I just wanted to take time to thank you as a group.  You are all doing much more than you can understand to protect what humanity really stands for.”  I couldn't help but feel a strong distaste for his grandiosity.  On cue, he looked right at me as he continued his pep talk.  “I urge all of you to consider the safety of this camp.  If you see anything that looks unusual or out of place, please talk to me, Elizabeth, or Ralph.  I will try to speak with all of you individually about what is to come. The information that I have is delicate and requires a personal touch.  Those of you who know me well, know what I mean.”  I saw some heads nod in agreement. 

    I felt kind of disappointed that we didn't get a detailed explanation of Gate Travel or the forces of Thomas Balthazaar, but hey, it's only day 2.  Or day 1 if you choose a more Eastern approach to temporal awareness.  Laurie and I walked toward the list of chores.  My task was listed as “construction of deer stands.”  I had no idea what that meant.  Laurie checked hers and written on the list was, “gardening.”  I wasn't sure which task confused me more.  She didn't seem so happy about her task, but she seemed to trust David's judgment.  Perhaps Thomas was allergic to petunias.   

    Ralph immediately appeared into my field of view with an enthusiastic grin on his face. “Looks like you're working with me today,” he bellowed emphatically.  “OK, I don't know what deer stands are,” I admitted, feeling like a cancer patient who was just conscripted.  “It's alright, I'll show you.  Just let me load up the supplies into the cart.  Meet me in the parking lot in 10 minutes.”  I nodded with all of the positive energy I could muster.  I saw Laurie walk off with a woman who looked just a bit older than her.  I think I heard Laurie call her Elizabeth.  I came to the sudden realization that we were being paired off with David's lieutenants. 

    I ambled over to the parking lot after staring at the tree line for a few minutes.  He was rolled up to the parking lot a few moments later.  The cart was loaded with a toolbox and boards of varying sizes.  Ralph patted the empty seat on the little work cart that he was sitting in.  I joined him and we zoomed up the steep hill in the little gas-powered cart. The ride was bumpy and stirred up my nausea from earlier that morning.  We took a right off the main dirt road onto one of the trails that snaked into the woods.  Ralph asked if I liked Nascar.  I told him I did, to seem agreeable.  He asked if I had a favorite driver.  I told him  Khrondak Timpledoogan.  I guess he was put off by that. 

    We pulled up to a large oak tree where he told us that we were to construct one of the deer stands.  It was basically the task of making a tree fort.  “We are using these to post snipers up, for when Thomas' men come.  I don't think we can out gun them in an outright firefight, but with an intimate knowledge of the terrain, we can at least put some hurt on them.”  I held the boards up while Ralph nailed them in, kind of admiring him for sounding like an expert tactician.  I kinda felt bad for being a smart ass before. 

    The boards were built into a ladder leading up to a point in the tree roughly ten feet up.  Then he constructed several boards nailed together that formed a Y shape pointing toward the entrance of the camp. I kept handing him nails and boards as he continued.  It wasn't the most laborious task, but it still was draining to do anything as the late morning sun became oppressive.  At least it wasn't bizarrely cold like it was that summer of 3 years ago.  He finished up the rudimentary sniper nest, and we zoomed off for another location down the trail.  We did these two more times, breaking for a few minutes to eat some sandwiches that he packed for us.   

    Ralph was actually a pretty funny guy.  The type who managed to turn everything into a joke that was actually amusing.  He also had a pretty sizable arsenal of dirty jokes, hilarious anecdotes, and other assorted things he said to keep the work entertaining.  By the time we finished the last nest, I was the one climbing up on the tree and nailing the boards down.  I must admit, he would have made a great boss back at the old job I was working.  A charismatic supervisor is often the difference between a happy workday or a nervous breakdown. 

    It was about midafternoon when we finished our efforts.  We drove over to the gardens to check on Laurie and Elizabeth.  I saw Laurie weeding around some light, purple-colored flowers.  I waved to her and dismounted from the cart.  “Hey Laurie, how goes it?”  She wiped some of the sweat from her brow and answered, “pretty good except for the sun.”  I curiously looked at the flowers she was tending.  “What kind of flowers are those?”  She answered, “Lilacs.”  A moment passed where I wasn't certain what to say.  Elizabeth broke the silence. 

    “These Lilacs are native to the mountains.  We are taking care of them for their unique properties.  Sadly, David needs us to pick all of the flowers in a couple days.  This variety is a late bloomer.”  I got the impression that her subtle smile was indicative of a hidden message.  One that I felt I wanted to ignore.  I glanced back and saw Ralph sitting on the seat of the cart melting in the sun.  He looked worn out.  Laurie looked up from her work and asked me, “how did it go with the deer stands?”  I shrugged and replied, “it got done.”  We said goodbye and agreed to meet at the cabin before dinner. 

    There was a corded off section of the lake and a small dock for swimming.  I was more than ready to enjoy the cool water around my grimy and sweaty body.  Thankfully, Dr. Sprinkles had some swimming trunks packed.  Laurie agreed that a swim would be a nice way to relax and joined me.  She was given an adorable floral one piece that belonged to one of the doctor's daughters.  We waded in the water and talked about our plans for the future.  I told her that I was torn between starting a reptile petting zoo and constructing the world's most elaborate Rube Goldberg device for opening a can of peas.  Between that and a no-holds-barred splash fight, it was a good time.  No one else at the camp joined us.   

    Diner was uneventful but a delectable feat of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, carrots, and rolls.  I started wishing that I would never leave from a place that served food this good.  Monica sat nearby again but seemed far more at ease.  I couldn't help but keep a wary eye on her, however.  I wasn't enthralled by the notion of a doom prophecy or another communication with the “other side,” being spouted out during a mealtime.  It really takes the flavor out of your meal.  Laurie made a sculpture out of mashed potatoes that she claimed was in the likeness of St. Thomas Aquinas.  I contended that it looked more like Edward Norton.  The debate raged on well into the evening. 

    We were gathered for an evening bonfire down a trail past the cabins. People talked about their day.  Mundane chit chat that brought us a little closer together.  A bright young woman from Panama by the name of Mercedes had some fascinating insights into String Theory.  I couldn't quite follow much of it.  I think she was a grad student studying physics abroad who opted to come to the camp for the summer.  Ralph attempted to dumb down the conversation by blurting, “String Theory?  More like String CHEESE Theory!”  OK, it wasn't his best joke, but the man had a hard time turning it off.   

    David joined us late into the bonfire session and mostly listened and laughed with the others.  I suspected he didn't want to be constantly associated with misery and fear.  I felt myself unconsciously stroking the amulet in my pocket, hoping that its power would work again tonight.  While rubbing the shell between my fingers, I glanced over at Monica and found that she seemed preoccupied.  Everyone else seemed to be in good spirits.  Elizabeth led some camp songs that I didn't know any of the words to.  I just moved my mouth around in an attempt to look like I was singing along. 

    The group eventually dispersed around 10.  Laurie and I walked back to the cabin and settled into bed.  I placed the amulet around my neck and let my mind relax.  I could hear Laurie giggling while reading a book in bed.  I looked over and told her something that just kind of popped out of my mouth, “I am glad I met you; you're a really good friend.”  She set her book down on her chest and looked over to me.  “Thanks Johnny, I feel the same way.”  The feeling that washed over me before sleep was a warm and comforting one. 

I think the warranty on that shell amulet must have expired.

    The shaky and rattling sensation of traveling jarred me awake.  The interior of a train car filled my vision.  I noted that I had scored a window seat wherever I had woken up.  The car was loaded with people, many of them were brandishing weapons from small firearms, rifles, clubs, bats, to knives and even a sword or two.  Everyone on the train car was wearing a mask of some kind.  The masks appeared to be China Doll masks.  The masks were bone white and the features on them were very baby-like.  It looked like some kind of ultra-violent gathering was underway.  Many of the passengers were looking at me suspiciously.  I felt very out of place and very uncomfortable all at once.  

    One of the passengers sitting next to me handed me a mask he had tucked into his jacket and said, “Here you are... Rodger."  He said that while pausing to think of a name for me.  "Don't be so forgetful next time,” he added more confidently.  I saw that he gave me a slight wink.  He was a tall man who looked to be around my age.  He was covered with tattoos and scars.  Everyone else on the train car seemed satisfied by his display and stopped paying me any attention.  Afterward, they all kept riding in silence.  I couldn't make out anyone's eyes too clearly, but they all had blank stares.  They looked mildly catatonic after I donned the mask.  The lights on the train flickered as the train jostled and shook rapidly approaching a city. 

    It was an odd trip filled with a strange tension that I felt I was the only one aware of.  It was like everyone was doing a coordinated group dance I wasn't familiar with.  Several minutes in surreal silence followed before the train reached its destination.  Then the people began pouring out of the train with their weapons hoisted.  I followed the group and imitated what I saw to try to fit in.  I hoisted my fist, and I made a rather silly sounding yet enthusiastic pirate's “Yarrrggh.”  Several people in the crowd saw me and were not amused. 

    The tall guy who handed me the mask handed me a switchblade from his pocket, while we marched to some unknown destination.  I hoisted the switchblade up but managed to suppress the pirate talk.  Some of the crowds were armed with torches.  I could see our group was intersecting with another group of similarly armed and masked people.  When the groups connected at a 4-way intersection in the street I could faintly hear the whine of helicopters above.  I became very apprehensive about the situation I was pushed into.  See! THIS is what happens when I follow the group. 

    The helicopter descended and hovered above the merging crowds.  The sound of an amplified voice coming from the helicopter's speakers played loudly.  “This is an unlawful gathering!  Please, disperse and return home immediately!”  The voice played it on loop a few times before whirling off.  People in the crowd were taking pot shots at it with small arms fire.  I darted off into an alleyway that was filled with rank garbage.  I slipped under a few of the black plastic bags of junk and waited for the bulk of the crowd to pass by.  I removed the mask but tucked the blade into my pocket. 

    Once I was sure that no one would notice me, I darted back into the street by continuing the alley to its other end.  I couldn't quite understand why I was hit with such a severe sense of familiarity.  I ignored the feeling tugging at me and darted behind cars trying to keep up with the crowd without being sucked into it.  Something about the group think occurring here made me feel out of place.  I had nothing in common with these people.  I saw the group converging with yet another group at an intersection.  Then I got a big clue where I was when I saw the sign for Sandalwood Ave.  I was at the very end of the group so I could keep an eye on what was going on without being drawn into whatever was about to go down.

    Familiar sights of the city that was once defunct came into view.  I strongly suspected that I knew where I was headed.  It was when I followed the group to the facility with the Daedelus Gate that I was sure I knew what they were here for.  Fitting the puzzle pieces together was rudely interrupted by helicopters screaming overhead raining down bullet fire and small missiles at the crowd.  It was turning into a massacre very quickly.  The crowd barely flinched.  Their determination was unnatural, almost superhuman. 

    I had decided against joining in this little pitched battle and bravely fled the scene. I came down several blocks at full sprint.  No one appeared to be following me when I periodically turned my head backward.  It still felt comforting to keep an eye out for danger.  Once the sounds of human butchery were becoming more and more faded my pace decreased.  My pace dropped to a walk, and I began to turn my strategy from run to hide.  I veered off Sandalwood to some street named Van Greet.  I then scanned for a more remote hiding spot.

    I hid in one of the narrower alleyways where I could easily stay out of sight.  I was quickly taken by surprise when I realized I was not alone.  It was an elderly black gentleman who looked very, very familiar.  He guffawed at my look of both recognition and confusion.  “You look lost.”  He said and his laughter turned into a brief coughing bout.  “Yeah, I am not from around here,” I confessed, trying to avoid the confusing details of my voyage.  “I am.  Born and raised.  The name is Clarence.  And you are?”