Borderlands (The Dreams of Reality Book 5)

by Gareth Otton

  He targeted this village because it was the home of one of the first people whose dream come true had turned them into a worldwide sensation. A young man gained a super power, and while that power was short lived, the locals enjoyed the attention it brought to their village. In an effort to keep it, they went out of their way to support dreamwalkers and anything else Dream related. The residents of this nothing of a village made every effort to stay relevant in the conversation and show their support for the post Merging changes, so they were the perfect people to pass on the message to the world of what happens to communities who think this way.

  Dream was evil. The people who used it for their own benefits were evil. Nothing good had come from the Merging, and tonight would go a long way towards making that message clear to the world. Kuruk grinned as he thought of how the British public would turn on that filthy prime minister. To think that he still kept his position after admitting that he was one of them...

  Kuruk shook his head in disgust and spat at his feet. After tonight, that would change.

  “Any sign of them?” he asked of his team.

  “Nothing yet,” came the first reply almost instantly, followed by many others.

  Kuruk checked his watch and shook his head. The nightmares had been out for three minutes. There would be nothing left of the village at this rate.

  “Not much of a response time,” he joked into the microphone and was rewarded with laughs from his men as he settled back in to wait. It was another thirty seconds before the door to the church burst open and someone ran out. A young man sprinted away like he was training for the Olympics. He ran right by Kuruk without even noticing that he was there.

  He was only alone for a moment, though. The sound of a stampede caught Kuruk’s attention, and he turned back toward the church. More people were rushing out, all wearing expressions of terror and some bearing wounds, the crimson blood looking black in the night's darkness.

  Kuruk couldn’t ignore the sight of fathers holding children close, of mothers carrying out babies, and he felt another stab of remorse. He knew this was inevitable, and he hated the thought of children having to pay for the actions of their parents. However, when it came to war, there had to be sacrifices. And this wasn’t just any old war, it was a war for the survival of their species. Kuruk knew that if things continued as they had, more dreamwalkers would start becoming laws unto themselves, and it would be the common person who paid the price.

  The rich elites could hire guards, make deals and keep themselves safe. But who was there to protect common people like Lucy? Just the thought of her name made him flinch, the memories of his lost love adding fuel to the fire of his anger. If these animals continued to get treated like gods and shown to be above the law, what was there to stop them doing whatever they wanted by taking more and more?

  The rest of the world didn’t see this yet, even the President and the people most in favour of this war. They weren’t thinking long term enough. They thought the Borderlands was an asset to be controlled, but Kuruk knew it was a power that couldn’t be allowed to exist in anyone’s hands. No one deserved that much power over another person, and it had to be stopped at all costs.

  However, even knowing all that, seeing those terrified faces of those little kids gave him pause and twisted him up inside. Luckily, he didn’t have long to wallow in that doubt and self recrimination before he heard what he had been waiting to hear.

  Pop.

  It was only faint as it was drowned out by the sounds of running feet and continued screams, but Kuruk would recognise it anywhere. He glanced over the rushing crowd, looking for the figure, and soon found him.

  The man was tall, though not as tall as the man Kuruk had been hoping for. He also wasn’t skinny like Tad Holcroft, but broad of the shoulder and covered from head to toe in black tactical gear. He held a gun in his hand but he pointed it at the floor when he realised terrified people surrounded him.

  There was another pop as one of his team mates arrived, then another, and another. Soon there were six men all dressed in the same black tactical gear and looking startled to see so many people.

  The Dream Team had finally arrived.

  “They’re here at the front of the church,” Kuruk hissed into the microphone. “There’s only six, so everyone else hold your locations. Church team, let’s finish this.”

  Again not waiting for a response, Kuruk focused on the large dreamcatchers tattooed onto his thighs, activating two of them at once.

  Time stopped.

  The noises of the world became so slow and low pitched that they were almost inaudible. Running people froze like statues, and the very air felt thick around him, as it couldn’t move out of his way fast enough. The second dreamcatcher, one that augmented his strength, dealt with that.

  He rushed out from his point of concealment, taking a direct path to the nearest Dream Team member who was standing with his back to him. There were people in Kuruk’s way, but he didn’t have long to take advantage of this opportunity. The dreamcatchers, while amazing, had a few major weaknesses, the main one being that they didn’t last long. The speed one burned itself out quickly.

  Already the skin around the tattoo was uncomfortably hot. Therefore, to save as much time as possible, he ran through the people in his path, knocking them aside with strength they couldn’t contend with and not caring about the consequences. He felt bones snap and flesh give way under the impact of his hands, but a side effect of the strength was durability and he didn’t take any damage himself, so he could ignore the rest.

  The sight of people flying out of the way like he was a train ploughing through the crowd alerted the Dream Team to his presence, but it was already too late. The first one flinched like he might raise his gun, but then Kuruk’s hands were on the sides of his head and he twisted hard. He wasn’t used to the strength from his dreamcatchers when combined with speed and, rather than just breaking the neck as intended, he tore the man’s head from his body.

  With time still slowed, he was left holding the head of the surprised man with the headless body still standing. It was a bizarre sight and Kuruk felt foolish about it, but then he made the most of the opportunity before his dreamcatcher burnt out. He threw the head at another member of the Dream Team and let the power flowing through the burning hot skin fade away.

  Screams assaulted his ears as time rushed back in, but he got the satisfaction of watching the helmeted head fly across the crowd with unnatural speed to collide with the face of one of the Dream Team. Thrown at such a high velocity, it was a death sentence for the surprised man. The head crushed his skull, and he crumpled to the ground.

  Kuruk almost laughed at the thought of killing one of these hated men with the head of another, but he didn’t have time. Guns were raised in his direction, and he needed to protect himself. He tapped another dreamcatcher, this one that covered most of his back. Being so large, he should have longer with it, but he pulled a lot more deeply on the power there because he wanted to ensure it wouldn’t fail. It was the right call and just in time.

  The crack of gunfire sounded, drowning out the screams and the sound of rushing feet as bullets whizzed at Kuruk. He tried to dodge, but without his speed dreamcatcher there was no chance of success. However, the bullets stopped a mere inch from his body as they encountered a force-field of solid air. In most cases the bullets pinged away, catching civilians in the process. Again a twinge of guilt struck Kuruk, but then he thought about how this would play out in the media and knew the Dream Team would catch hell for this. It was their bullets who killed civilians, not Kuruk’s.

  Every bullet that struck his force-field felt like a wasp sting and it didn’t take long for even that slight pain to add up. He drew a little deeper on the tattoo so that he felt even less of the pain, but he sacrificed time in doing so.

  That was okay, though, because he had bought enough time for his team to arrive. He first noticed them when gunfire abruptly stopped from one of the Dream Team as th
e tip of a knife erupted out of his throat. The body dropped to reveal one of Kuruk’s men.

  Another gun stopped firing as this time a fireball consumed a Dream Team member. His tactical gear took the brunt of the heat, but it distracted him long enough for Kuruk’s man to punch him hard enough to shatter bones. The man was unconscious instantly, and dead a second later when Kuruk’s guy stamped on his neck.

  It left only two more Dream Team members alive, and both stopped firing as they realised what was happening. This was a trap for them and if they didn’t act soon, they would be dead with their friends. Both activated dreamcatchers of their own, and Kuruk grinned.

  Finally he might get a real fight.

  He was to be disappointed.

  The first of the Dream Team activated a speed Dreamcatcher and suddenly he was moving like lightning, bringing his gun around to one of Kuruk’s men. However, it doesn’t matter how fast you can move when your target can shrug off bullets like they were nothing. By the time the man realised this, Kuruk had stepped behind him and this time when he broke his neck, the head stayed attached to the body.

  He turned to find the last Dream Team member, but he was the first man to show an ounce of sense. He had dreamwalked away to save himself.

  “Damn,” Kuruk hissed. “He’ll get reinforcements.” Activating his microphone, he said, “We’re done here. Let’s sign our work and go home.”

  He got ascent back from all of his men, but some sounded disappointed to have to leave so early. It didn’t matter, their work was done. He nodded to one of his guys and pointed to the church. The man understood the message and fished a can of spray paint out of the pocket of his trousers. Seeing him do this, the others repeated the action, rushing up to the church and painting messages on the side. The first was the emblem of the Children of ADaM, the rest were slurs for dreamwalkers and anti-Dream messages.

  That left Kuruk to grab the last of the people who were fleeing the church. It was a middle aged man with wide, terrified eyes and blood covering half of his face. He didn’t even see Kuruk as he was snatched up and brought in close.

  “What the... Get off me. These things are—”

  “Shut up,” Kuruk snapped, cutting off the man. It might have been his voice that scared the man into silence or the casual way Kuruk lifted him from the ground with a single hand so that he could bring him to his eye height, which was over seven-foot from the floor.

  “When the media get here, I have a message I want you to tell them for me. Spread the word so that if you don’t survive, there will be at least someone who can pass the message on. Tell them that this is what happens to anyone who sides with Dream filth over their own people. We don’t care if you’re a dreamwalker, someone who’s dream has come true, or even just people hoping that a dream will come true, anyone who interacts with Dream in any way will bring down punishment like this. It is evil and wrong, and has no place in this world. You got that?”

  Terrified, the man nodded so hard it looked like his eyes were rattling in his skull. Happy that his message had been delivered, Kuruk threw the man aside and watched as he first hit the floor, then scrambled to his feet. Kuruk suspected it was terror that made the man’s legs move so quick as he ran away. Hopefully it would be fast enough to escape the nightmares tonight, because Kuruk wanted his message heard.

  A flicker of movement out the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he turned to find two shadow nightmares exiting the church, heads moving from side to side as they sniffed the air, looking for prey.

  “Time to go,” Kuruk said into his microphone, then waited for his men to disappear one by one. Alerted by the use of Dream, the nightmare’s heads turned from side to side, seeking the person using it. Kuruk activated one of his dreamcatchers so that they were both looking at him.

  “Have fun,” he told them, before he activated one last dreamcatcher that took him away from this place, leaving the nightmares behind to finish their carnage.

  11

  Saturday, 24th December

  21:14

  Lizzie poked her head around the wall and analysed the road with narrowed eyes before stepping out of the alley. For the first time in hours of waiting, there was no traffic and no one watching. This was their best chance.

  She glanced at the enormous tower made of glass and stone that loomed over the entire city. It was the tallest building in the city by a wide margin and belonged somewhere like New York, not Athens. New Olympus was as much a statement as it was a functioning building, one that said a lot about its owner.

  “Nothing this way.”

  The sound came from inside her head, making her jump as the earpiece was so small and comfortable she forgot she was wearing it. Activating the microphone on her collar, she replied to Leon, who waited on another street to make sure the coast was clear.

  “Nothing this way either. Miles, I think now’s our chance.”

  Not taking her word for it, Miles stepped out of the shadow of the alley like a rabbit stepping out of its warren when predators were nearby. The trendy geek lost his cool out here where he wasn’t surrounded by computer screens, blinking LEDs and enough processing power to take over the world. Her patience for the night long since spent, Lizzie waved frantically at him so he didn’t waste their window.

  “Come on. We don’t have all night. Let’s get this last one installed, then get the hell out of here.”

  He frowned at her as if to say, Don’t rush me. However, Lizzie’s answering scowl said something far less polite and finally he got a hurry on.

  He scurried over to the restaurant opposite the entrance of New Olympus. Kneeling next to one of the potted plants beside the door, he pulled the leaves aside and planted something small and black that was little bigger than a key ring. The glimmer of street-lights reflected off a small circle of glass on the front of the device, the tiny lens that was going to give them twenty-four-hour surveillance of who went in and out of the tower.

  Minutes dragged by and Lizzie fidgeted, her eyes darting up and down the street.

  “Come on, Miles. What’s taking so long?”

  Her hissed words were little more than a whisper, but Miles jumped so hard he nearly fell over. His glare matched the expression of a child about to throw a tantrum.

  “I need to find a place for the solar panels so they get good light but won’t be noticed. This isn’t as easy as it—”

  “I don’t care, Miles. Just get your arse moving so we can get out of here.”

  Lizzie turned away to keep a look out, but she could feel Miles’ glare burning into her back.

  The little camera was one of six they had planted and was the latest technology the Borderlands had to offer. The solar technology used scaled down panels based on the designs of Angela Santoro, the genius who figured out the efficiency problem of Solar technology in a dream on the night of the Merging. The panel on that device was impossibly small but when combined with the battery it charged, would power the device for an entire day on just an hour of sunlight. It meant they didn’t need another power source for the cameras and they could get creative with their placement.

  Coupled with advancements in camera technology itself, and they had high definition feeds along with the ability to remotely take control and zoom in if necessary. In many ways it was overkill for what they needed, but with who they were targeting, Lizzie feared it wouldn’t be enough.

  Using cameras to watch the building was Miles’ idea that sprang from his desire to keep Lizzie from getting herself into trouble. Of course, he got the chance to play with new tech at the same time and she wondered if that was the real reason he offered the idea.

  Whatever the case, they would be helpful, but she also knew they wouldn’t be enough. She needed cameras inside the building, but didn’t know how to manage that yet.

  “I’m done,” Miles said.

  “About time,” Lizzie muttered. She checked the coast was clear one more time before hurrying back over so she could dreamwalk them
both away.

  “Good timing, Miles. There’s a car coming,” Leon said over the radio. “I’ll meet you guys back at the barn.”

  “Good timing, Miles,” Miles mocked in a silly voice as Lizzie approached. Seeing her frown, he blushed and looked away.

  “We’ll be there in a minute,” Lizzie answered Leon, before deactivating her microphone. “What’s your problem?”

  “Nothing,” Miles answered. “Can we just get out of here?”

  He sounded like a petulant child and Lizzie was tempted to dreamwalk him home without telling him to jump. Not wanting to be quite that mean, she settled for grabbing his ear and twisting it hard. Miles yelped and had no choice but to jump when asked.

  Lizzie thought about her barn and the world changed.

  She’d had the tattoo for a month, but knew she would never tire of that. First there was warmth and light as power rushed through her skin, almost like electricity, but with no pain. The accompanying rush of power was addictive, but not so addictive as travelling two thousand miles in under a second.

  The crisp fresh air was replaced with the artificial warmth of her studio as the walls of her barn materialised around her, and the first sound she heard was the thump of Miles landing from his jump. Even with the jump technique, he looked disorientated, but he was more concerned with Lizzie letting his ear go and rubbing the soreness away as he glared at her.

  She was about to demand what his problem was again, but she found Leon watching them both from her editor’s desk. He was leaning back in the chair with his feet on the desk and a playful smile on his face. Despite herself, Lizzie couldn’t help but notice how that smile added an almost roguish quality to his already handsome features. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Miles’ frown deepen and finally understood his problem.

  “You think that’ll ever get old?” Leon asked, not needing to specify what he was talking about.

  “Tad acts like dreamwalking is nothing special, but I can’t imagine ever getting to that point,” Lizzie agreed.