Dealing in Dreams

by Lilliam Rivera

  CHAPTER 16

  HUNGRY GHOSTS

  Wake up,” he says. “You’re having a bad dream.”

  Confused by my whereabouts, I instinctively reach for my tronic and aim it at the silhouette. Miguel stands over me. How long has he been there? Is he going to make a move? My hand keeps steady on the weapon.

  “You were screaming,” he says.

  “Move.” He stays put. Miguel’s not afraid of my tronic or of me.

  His expression is hard to decipher. He is the one person on this trip I can never read. The occasions I’ve spent with sueño addicts have been limited to breaking nights. There have never been meaningful conversations. But mutiny is contagious. Miguel could be plotting to take me down.

  “Move away,” I repeat while I turn the tronic’s laser beam on. This is how we met, with my tronic aimed at his forehead. The encounter seems ages ago. Back then I had no idea I would be tied to this man and we would be on this hellish journey. Now I’m alone with him, the last person I want to be with.

  Miguel slowly walks back to the farthest corner of the room. He could have easily left me to fend for myself. Hit me at my lowest point. Again, I don’t understand him. When he returns to his seat, I put the tronic away and pull my knees to my chest. These thoughts of the past are too much. They are wounds that never heal.

  Yamaris. Flashes of green grass and rain. I am left to decipher these haunting thoughts. Did they happen, or is it wishful thinking?

  A ray of sunlight descends on the room, illuminating Miguel’s thin profile. How long have we been asleep? I think of Truck and the others. Did they reach their destination, or have the Gurl Gunnas already thwarted their foolish plan? Maybe they’re devising a way to reunite with me.

  Yeah, right.

  “Do you hear that?” Miguel asks.

  I hear it. It’s barely audible. A tapping sound, as if a person knocks on a door.

  “Gather your stuff quietly.” I grab my bag and make sure he does the same. He’s lethargic. My stomach growls. It’s been a while since we’ve eaten, but I don’t want to be confined in this space while there are others out there.

  I walk to the back of the room, toward a window. Slight murmurs can be heard. It’s low. Definitely a voice. Miguel stands next to me. We both take a peek.

  A man and a boy are a few steps away from us in a sort of courtyard. The man digs a hole in the ground while the little boy watches him. Every few seconds, the boy taps on a rock as if playing a tune. The man ruffles the boy’s hair and smiles. They are both oblivious to anything or anyone else, completely in their own world. The man does not wear the normal toiler overalls, just regular pants and a long-sleeved shirt. He continues to dig while talking to the boy. A few moments later a woman calls to them from the building across the way. She wears a long dress that reaches the ground. The mother, perhaps? There is nothing hard about her. Maybe it’s the way the sun slowly rises, creating a sort of haze to the surroundings. It feels as if I’m watching a play, an idyllic scenario that exists only in books.

  The boy shouts to her. He lifts his hand and shows her the rock.

  “Maybe they have food,” Miguel says.

  “Yeah, and maybe they’re Gurl Gunnas.”

  Miguel shakes his head. “They aren’t Gurl Gunnas. It’s a family. Cemi Territory is not populated with girl gangs. That’s a city thing. There are many who live here and are simply surviving. Not everyone lives by their fists.”

  The mother has now joined the man and the boy. How sweet. Maybe I should go out there and trample their so-called garden. Grab the rock from the kid and hurl it against a window. Destroy this perfect image.

  “Let’s go.”

  Miguel stays by the window while I open my backpack and eat a food pellet.

  “Los Bohios is close,” he says. “Those food pellets aren’t very tasty. Let’s talk to them. Eat real food.”

  I grab his shoulders and push him toward the entrance. He hasn’t asked for a sueño in a while. In fact, I didn’t see him take the sueño offered to him at the boydega. Why is he hoarding them? “Don’t eat.”

  We move into the streets, and the family quickly takes notice. The man stands clutching his shovel. The mother places a hand on the boy’s shoulder, keeping him near. She doesn’t want any trouble. Neither do I. Miguel waves at the family. The boy waves back. I don’t even crack a smile. Instead, I nudge Miguel forward.

  “They seemed nice,” he says. “Wouldn’t have hurt to try to communicate now that it’s just the two of us.”

  “Lead the way and stop trying to think outside of your sueño capacity.”

  As we walk past small buildings and shacks, families take note of the strangers. Some ignore us and go about their business. Others stare. I imagined Cemi Territory to be a desolate wasteland similar to what Mega City used to be before Déesse and her family cleaned it up. Instead I find there is actual life, or the semblance of one. It doesn’t matter. If the boy is lucky, he’ll find work at a boydega in Mega City. If he is smart enough.

  We press on.

  The path Miguel leads us on ascends slightly. It’s not strenuous. However, my ankles feel the strain. The air seems crisper. Cooler. No more piles of garbage. Instead, wildflowers in bright colors line the path. In the distance there are large mountains. There are barely any buildings obstructing the view. Mega City and the LMCs are so far away. I am reaching my destination, and my anxiety increases with each step.

  When we reach Los Bohios, I will offer myself up to the Ashé Ryders. Miguel thinks we left Mega City because we were tired of how Déesse was running it. The Ashé Ryders will need to believe this too. The azabache stays tucked deep in my pocket.

  There is a stone archway ahead. The grass that surrounds it is overgrown. It looks as if the area is abandoned. I hesitate.

  “We are entering Los Bohios,” Miguel says. He walks to the archway. I stop. What will it mean once I go through this entrance? I’m not ready.

  “No,” I say. “We need to regroup.”

  Miguel tilts his head to the side. Confused. “Isn’t this what you want?” he asks. “What we both want? I’m ready to go home.”

  What is wrong with me? I am so afraid. I want to go over what I’m going to say, the lies I’m about to spill. I’m scared of what I will find once I walk through the archway. I never thought I would be doing this by myself.

  I remember seeing a shack tucked in a field filled with wildflowers. It’s on its last legs.

  “There’s a structure back there. I want a break from the sun.” Miguel eyes me. He doesn’t believe my excuse. He follows me anyway.

  Sunrays peak through the cracks. I give him a food pellet and water. He has a bit of color on his face. He is losing the sueño pallor.

  As we sit and chew on our pellets, I go over my plan. I will lay the Déesse hate thick. This shouldn’t be a problem. What will be hard is finding enough time to gather information. I only have a couple of days. This would have been easier with the LMCs. We would have divvied up what to look for—weapons, strategies—and calculate how many are in their army. Now I will have to do this on my own.

  “What are you looking at?” I catch Miguel staring at me. “It’s been a while since you had a sueño. Why don’t you take one?”

  “Have you ever taken a tab before?” he says. “You should try it since you’re such a strong sueño advocate.”

  He closes his eyes as if he’s reliving the sensation. “It takes a second for the tab to dissolve in your mouth. The taste is sweet. Smart move on Déesse to make them that way,” he continues. “Then slowly the barriers holding you down start to melt. The hateful words that constantly pound your head fade. Edges lose their grip, and you start to feel weightless.”

  “That’s your problem right there,” I say. “Those feelings don’t exist outside of a sueño.”

  Miguel opens his eyes and flashes a look of anger. “That is not true. I’ve had that feeling once before. Singing. I once brought happiness to many. No t
ies. Just from pure love. And they loved me back. Have you ever felt that way?”

  “Sure. Whenever I win.”

  “I am not talking about throwdowns,” he says with a huff.

  It’s strange to have him ask such an intimate question. My thoughts immediately turn to my sister and my recent dream. The vision is not solid. It’s more of an impression A feeling that we were once happy together.

  Déesse has said this before—men want to explain away when they should shut up. Santo does the same. Always wanting to steer me as if he has the answers. We will arrive at Los Bohios and Miguel will no longer be a thorn in my side.

  “Take this and escape.” I toss him a tab. He holds the sueño in his hand. “Why don’t you take it? What’s holding you back? You love sueños.”

  “I want to be clean when I return home,” he says. “Don’t you understand?”

  Miguel leans against a wall. He takes a deep breath in and out. This version of Miguel I can’t relate to. Who is he if not an addict wishing to score another dream?

  I also find a wall. My thoughts drift to the LMCs and the happier moments when we were victorious. I miss Mega City. Streets I owned for a good two years. The Luna Club and Books waiting with my bath. Most of all, I miss Santo, even though this angers me.

  Maybe I’m not strong enough to do what has to be done. At the training camp, instructors taught me how to survive the streets. Only a few were born with the smarts to lead. How smart am I to have lost Nena and the LMCs? I don’t agree with Miguel. Ambition is not a bad thing. Ambition compelled Zentrica to leave Mega City and strike out on her own. My dream is what I have.

  Forget this nostalgic thinking. If I don’t move now, I’ll never do it.

  “Let’s go.” I tap him with my boot. “Wake up. Let’s do this.”

  He ignores me. I lose my patience and kick him.

  “There’s so much anger in you,” Miguel says.

  I laugh at his stupid statement. He’s not making any revelations there.

  “I don’t care. Move.”

  “At least I have a love. Zentrica loves me.” I should kick him again. Love doesn’t exist.

  “How’s love working for you?” I say. “I’m not the one being led around, fed sueños whenever I feel compassionate enough to treat you. You’re not even human, just a poor addict.”

  “You are also trapped.”

  “I’m going to tell you what’s going to happen when we reach the Ryders,” I say. “Zentrica is going to take one good look at you and cut you off for the last time. If she doesn’t, I will surely do it for her.”

  He shrugs off my hateful words. We’re the same in that sense. No matter what’s thrown our way, we only see the prize. His eyes go wide. He smiles.

  “I know who you are,” he says. “Who you really are.”

  I don’t change my expression. He’s bluffing. Trying to get me angry. Playing with me. What else is there left to do? We’re at the end of this journey. He must feel it too.

  “Zentrica told me all about you.”

  My reaction is quick, automatic. I pull out my knife. I press it to his neck, right beside his pulsing vein. “I’m Chief Rocka of the LMC, that’s who I am. You? You are part of this nightmare.”

  He moves his head, unafraid of how the blade cuts the skin. “Your name is Nalah.”

  “What did you say?” My stomach drops.

  “I knew the moment I saw you that night. You both have the same expression when you’re upset,” he says. “The crinkle on your forehead.”

  I push the knife into his skin. Blood trickles. “You are lying,” I say. “I don’t know a Zentrica.”

  “Everyone hides behind different names. Dig deep. You know who Zentrica is and what she means to you,” he says. “She sang this to you, didn’t she?”

  He hums the song from my dreams. It is the same song from the night we went searching for him at the Rumberos.

  Help me find the sun. I will follow you, child.

  No. I don’t know a Zentrica. This is a lie. Zentrica is my enemy and the enemy of the people of Mega City. It can’t be. I hate him for screwing up my head with songs and tales of his life. He won’t contaminate me. I won’t let him.

  “I’m going to kill you for even uttering such a lie,” I say. “My sister is dead. She’s not an Ashé. She’s not Zentrica.”

  Before I plunge the knife in, I hear footsteps. I push away from him and crawl on my hands and knees to a window.

  A string of girls line up in formation. They wear long flowing dresses similar to the one worn by the mother we saw earlier. They are not dressed for a throwdown. How can they fight in such a getup? Their relaxed stance shows a crew that will patiently wait for us to come out. The one in the back pulls out a malasuerte and throws it in the direction of the shack.

  I take cover.

  CHAPTER 17

  JOURNEY’S END

  The explosion is deafening. Pieces of the ceiling come crashing down around us. I’m not hurt. Not yet anyway.

  “You can’t stay in there forever,” a voice yells. “The shack is going to collapse. You better come out.”

  Miguel gets up. I tackle him to the ground. We’re not leaving yet. I don’t care how many malasuertes these girls throw. They’ll have to drag me out.

  “Let go,” Miguel says.

  “No,” I say. “We are not going.”

  Miguel wriggles underneath me. I manage to hold him down while sneaking a peek. A girl in a sky-blue gown and combat boots carries a small microphone with a disc surrounding it. The others begin to place objects in their ears. A sound weapon. Mega hell. I need to protect myself from the noise. I open my pack to find a piece of cloth to use. I’m too slow. Miguel pushes me off as he tries to run toward the entrance.

  A high piercing sound instantly fills the air, blasting inside my head. The pain is blinding. Too much. I can’t protect myself. I cradle my head and try to stop my insides from spilling. The noise is relentless. I whimper on the floor. Every part of my body clenches.

  The noise suddenly stops. I’m unable to tell the difference. Worn leather boots surround me. A person takes my tronic and Codigo. I have no strength to stop them. I try to lift my head. I’m too weak. I can’t hear a thing they’re saying. Only bits trickle in, syllables. The ringing in my head continues. Tears stream down my neck.

  I don’t know how long I cower on the floor. The pain is too great for me to even care. I turn to the side and throw up what little food I had in my stomach.

  Two girls drag me outside. They drop my body to the ground. My breath is ragged. It takes forever for me to find my bearings, to stop my hands from shaking.

  “What the hell do you want?” My voice is raspy.

  The girl with the sound weapon answers. I’m scared she will use it again.

  “Sorry. We don’t know who you are,” the girl says. “It’s best to take things slow when meeting. Are you able to walk?”

  Before I answer her, I ram my body into the girl. The weapon topples from her hand. I raise my fist and punch her in the chin. I’m no punk. I don’t care how many there are. Hands pull me away. I don’t stop. I pull at their dresses. I throw wildly.

  “Damn, girl. Calm down,” someone says. They grab hold of my arms. “Relax. We are only going to escort you in. There’s no need for this drama.”

  The girl with the sound weapon stands. She rubs her chin and walks to me. “It will take roughly forty minutes to reach our destination,” she says. “We can knock you out and pull your lifeless body over rocks. Or you can walk as a human being. You choose.”

  I’m no fool. I obey.

  Three girls surround Miguel. They tend to him with such care. This fills me with rage. I take a closer look. There are five of them, ranging in ages. These girls don’t have a soldier’s frame. They’re not completely soft, just different.

  “Where are you taking me?” I say.

  They don’t respond.

  I turn to Miguel. He looks away. Instead, he ta
kes the hand offered to him. They pat his shoulder. They know him. The simple act confirms my suspicion.

  “You’re Ashé Ryders.”

  “Yes. We are Ashé,” she says. “Shall we begin the trek?”

  When Miguel walks past me, I spit at him. The spit lands right on his cheek. He knew all along who I was. This was a setup. There was never an “accidental” meeting the night Miguel took hold of Nena. He knew what I meant to the Ashé. He knew about my sister.

  “Enough,” the Ashé says. She pushes me forward. Now I am the one being led.

  We walk silently. My head tries to calculate how I can salvage this. The angles point to how much of a suicide mission I was on to begin with. What was I going to accomplish without the LMCs by my side? On my own I am useless.

  “Thirsty?”

  The Ashé closest to me offers me water. I don’t accept it although my lips are parched. The others act as if we are taking a family stroll on our way to a picnic. Their kindness only makes me paranoid. I’m waiting for the knife to be plunged into my back.

  We walk through the stone archway. There’s a sweet smell in the air coming from the blanket of blue flowers growing on the ground. The path leads us to a hill. I can’t tell if the birds chirping in the looming trees are actual living birds or decorative animatronics. There aren’t many birds in Mega City.

  Once we reach the top of the hill, a new set of Ashé Ryders appears from behind the trees. They greet each other and Miguel. They don’t address me. Miguel doesn’t join in with their happiness. He is deep in his own world. I hope he rots. As they chat about nonsense, I look down to the camp. I can see where the Ashés live. Hundreds of circular dwellings made of wood are arranged in the center of a type of village. The buildings, if I can even call them that, appear flimsy, not durable. This must be what Miguel meant by bohios. My sister is down there. Where is she? What will she do to me?

  “Almost there,” the Ashé in the blue dress says. We begin our descent.

  A woman alerts the others of our arrival with a whistle. Tons of kids come screaming. Back in Mega, there is no time for kids to play outside. If they’re not in the training camps, they’re working. These children don’t have the harsh street look. They appear healthy, not ready to fight or steal.