by Taylor Kole
Corey felt an ember of outrage heat itself inside his chest. Lacking leverage, and only concerned with reuniting with Janey, he avoided stoking it to a flame.
Marci replied in a steady but strained voice. “That we put you through?”
Corey gripped Marci’s hand and applied gentle pressure. They needed civility to come through this without anyone being hurt.
“Of course, what you caused,” Walt said. “I offered you two absolute nothings a path to the greatest treasures life has to offer and you snubbed your noses AT ME!” Wiping a hand across his mouth seemed to settle him. He continued. “You dodged me. As if offering you riches and experiences unknown to nearly every person who lives and dies was a nuisance. Dream Riding is meant to be shared with the world, not bottled up as some Las Vegas sideshow act by two pieces of trash.”
Even with the vile source, the rebuke bothered Corey. He had a respectable college degree, a wife, a child, and he lived to never harm or cheat another. He considered himself beyond reproach. Today’s lesson: no matter who you were, certain people would consider you trash.
Marci stepped closer to the table, placed her hands on the back of a chair, and said, “What is your new deal?”
“Oh, well.” Walt wiped his nose and sniffled. “It’s simple and straightforward, starting with you sharing.” He pointed to the main entrance. Kendra had returned, leading two additional men to the meeting.
Both were slim, wore glasses, and absorbed the scene with keen focus and the air of scholars. Height and hair distinguished the duo. The shorter man had gray hair nearing white. The taller man was bald on top with a bird’s nest of hair around the sides.
“These are your replacements. You will give me a Dream Ride while they record and detail it all. Once I wake and confirm an authentic journey, we will hammer out the details. Then, in a twist, I write you a check for one million dollars, you stay on call to my doctors until my company is running smooth, and everything in your life returns to how it was before this, except you’re rich, because I’m magnanimous.”
“Meaning we leave with Janey, tonight,” Marci said.
“Meaning your life will return exactly as it was before. Adding your newfound wealth.”
Corey wanted to spit on the hardwood floor to show his contempt for the deal. A sliver of him worried Marci was celebrating the announcement, and they would have to interact with this evil man beyond tonight.
“Agreed.” Marci moved her hair behind her ear. “On two conditions.”
“Conditions?” Walt tilted his head at Cooper and suppressed a full grin. “Do tell.”
“You call your attorney and stop the legal harassment, rescind every action right now.”
“Done.”
“I mean immediately. We want confirmation the dogs are called off.”
After a bored sigh, Walt addressed Kendra. “Get Mr. Lattimore on the phone.”
The call took place on speaker, and ended with Mr. Lattimore assuring Walt the paperwork would be submitted within the hour, and take effect when business resumed, after the Fourth of July holiday.
“Your second request?”
“We postpone the check passing and discussions on our future for one day. We’ve been away from Janey for longer than any parents should. The moment we wake, we leave. If your doctors brought the correct machines, they can verify our process worked.”
“I’m not sure what you mean by… once you wake,” Walt said.
“You will shortly,” Marci said. “All I want is, when we’re done, and your creeps have proof, we can leave with our daughter. We don’t have to sit around waiting for you to wake up. The million dollar check will keep us close. We meet again in a day or two.”
Seeing confusion on Walt’s face, thinking it applied to them waking early, Corey interjected. “We finish our part of the Dream Ride hours before you wake.”
“And if I’m forced to sit around with these two.” Marci pointed to Cooper and Kendra, “you could wake to a bloody mess.”
Walt glanced at tall and short. “Will your equipment measure effects?”
The short doctor stepped closer. “We’ll know if you’ve dreamed, and have an estimate of the intensity.”
“If they can state you impacted my dream, then I agree,” Walt said. “We’ll let a day or two pass, emotions cool, and exchange notes for cash.”
A survey of the room: Cooper shrugged, Kendra frowned.
The two replacements—presumably psychologists specializing in dream therapy, didn’t respond. Marci could tell by the cold look in the taller man’s gaze that he was totally fine with a kidnapping-to-extort-information setup. The shorter man seemed more timid, more hurried, as if trying to repress thinking about his role in the current situation.
“Okay then.” Walt addressed the newcomers. “Is everything ready?”
“Yes, sir,” the shorter man said.
“Good.” To Marci, Walt said, “We’ve developed a sleep inhalant with an actual chance for FDA approval. I’m ready to put it to work and dream like a demigod, if you are.”
“Not yet,” Marci said. “We want to see Janey.”
“She’s safe and will be with you momentarily—” Walt stopped as if struck. Stepping closer, he examined Corey and Marci’s hands, then the floor around them. “Where’s your bag of tricks?” He looked to Cooper.
“They arrived empty-handed.”
The prospect of jumping into the Dream Ride without clarifying the process had suited Corey. Let the doctors see them gripping Walt’s ankles and wrists, sleeping while standing, their machines jumping from the evidence of their work. With that scenario, it would be easy for Walt to understand why they hadn’t accepted his offer.
“We don’t use props,” Marci said. “Show us Janey, and we’ll tell you everything.”
“How about you tell me everything, and once we talk like adults, you can have your teary-eyed reunion.”
Marci took a deep breath, then explained it all. From their lifelong interest in dreams, their educations, how if a person spent the day focused on dreams they would increase the number and duration of dreams they had that night, and clarity of recall once awake, multiplied, for them, by years of such.
She detailed their experiments with legal stimulants and mind-altering substances with enough recall to jog memories Corey had abandoned. When listed, he could see the chain of events that led to the Dream Ride talent. He just didn’t see a way to recreate it.
Corey interjected his opinions and memories. They both chimed in as they recalled the first time they entered Janey’s dream after playing in a kid-size pool, sprinkler, and falling asleep half-dressed with Janey between them. Over a year after they realized it could be repeated, they thought about capitalizing on their talent.
Marci covered the business side swiftly: the first ride with Mr. Labarge, the travesty of Marty Carnes committing suicide (which Marci labeled a “hiccup”) the dozens of other rides. She shared everything, excluding the Beings.
She talked with such confidence and passion, the therapists—short and tall—had moved to chairs across from Marci and Corey. When she finished, the taller man typed on a tablet. The short man studied her.
“That’s an absurd story,” Kendra said from her spot near the main entrance.
Hearing that and imagining that most present agreed, Corey suspected Marci hadn’t mentioned the Beings to give everyone a chance to accept this part of the truth.
Walt had moved to a chair at the head of the table. He wiped his hand across his face, massaged his eyelids. Removing his hands, he burst, “Ha!” then pointed a finger at Marci. “I carried this wild suspicion you knew about my dreams and their content interfered with our partnership. An impossible idea, right? Yet, I never shook it.” He strummed his fingers on the table. “I guess if you can list specifics in my dreams—things I’ve never shared—how could I deny your claims?”
“We can outline your dreams to total recall.” Marci held Walt’s gaze. “Perhaps you wo
uld prefer if we did so in private.”
Corey would list the emotions of dominance, arrogance, and contempt, as summation of their knowledge. With consideration, those might seem quite obvious to Walt’s inner circle, and prove nothing. Adding that Walt’s unique level of depravity allowed a demon to share his skull might turn the improbable odds of them accepting this, to impossible odds, and earn them the death sentence hanging in the air.
Yet perhaps claiming a demon lived in Walt would seal their credibility.
Walt smiled. “I’ll accept the mind connection, for now. We can verify everything a day from now. I’ll keep the memories fresh.” Cupping his chin between forefinger and thumb, he added. “Scalability is my current focus.” Finding Marci, he said, “I’m sure you’ve thought it over, because I see now you were always interested in working with me. The question is, did you make progress on how to train others?”
“I think we’ve shared enough to see our daughter,” Marci said.
Corey scanned the room, expecting to find her running toward him.
“Yes. She is here, and fine. A few more questions, since we might have to work together after all. That’s the sign of a good businessman, isn’t it? They can work with anyone, forgive any slight, so long as it's profitable.” Standing, he closed the distance and sat beside Marci. “Do you think you can train this… talent?”
“I think tonight, with witnesses, I will show you, in the dream, the transmutable properties I feel we already possess. Your guys will see the effect and know I’m speaking the truth. For full training, I detailed possible triggers that can be simulated. Although complex, I believe we can duplicate the ability.” She moved her short black hair behind both of her ears.
Marci only moved her hair behind her ears when she lied. Realizing his wife harbored some secret plan, Corey wanted to speak up, even tell Walt. He only prayed for Janey’s safe return. Learning she angled for more money, at this point, would damage his view of her, forever.
“Bring out Janey,” Marci said. “If she is unharmed, we will get through this Ride, where everything you need will be given to you.”
“To be clear,” Walt studied her features. “If I need further assistance from you, the million-dollar advance can be a starting point. I know you want to sever ties—”
“We want our daughter back, a peaceful life. Nothing more,” Marci said. “But money sounds nice.”
Walt leaned back in his chair, his sunken eyes stayed on Marci, a deep inhale through his nostrils. He snapped his fingers and Cooper went to a solid pane of dark wood, found a secret latch and entered a narrow corridor. Two minutes later, little fingers grasped the outer edge and pushed it open.
Corey held his breath. He grew lighter as the silhouette he knew down to the millimeter emerged. He was bombarded with a montage of seeing her in her mother’s arms moments after birth, when she reached out her hand to grip Corey’s finger and speak her first word: Dada, and her sleeping between the couple on hundreds of nights.
Janey ran to her mother and they embraced. Corey knelt and locked his arms around his family.
Under the dim lighting, each parent inspected Janey: new jeans, shoes, and a long-sleeve shirt. Her hair was clean with the faint smell of shampoo. Surprisingly, that fueled Corey’s disgust. Which one of these monsters had pretended to care for her?
He pushed aside the anger and focused on this Ride. To consider the multitude of possible future complications at that moment could create a panic, and force Corey to snatch Janey in both arms and run for the exit.
Marci placed her hand on his back, and rubbed up and down. He met her eyes. After a full second stare, he relaxed, and interpreted her non-verbal advice: stay strong, let’s do the Ride and leave. Trust her.
The couple rose, each holding one of their daughter’s hands. Janey looked to her mom and spoke in a casual tone. “These are bad people, mom.”
“I know, dear, but we’ll be leaving soon, and they will never bother us again.”
“Hey,” Walt said. “Don’t act all noble. Your distrust forced us here. If you shared this months ago, we’d have worked it out. You knew I couldn’t allow you to piss a world-changing service away. This is destiny.”
“We’re ready to get this over with,” Marci said. “If you are.”
A half-minute of heavy breathing and Walt said, “By all means.”
The entire troop followed Kendra to a bedroom stripped of everything domestic except a sheeted queen-size mattress and a lone pillow. Portable lights were stationed around the four corners of the room. Movie-quality cameras were stationed next to the lights. A medical stand, with three levels of equipment waited near the door. Many colorful wires, with sticky pads and succors at the ends, sat atop the machine. The taller therapist pushed the station near the bed.
“Polysomnographic machines,” the shorter technician said.
Corey examined the men more closely. The shorter man seemed in a senior position and in his fifties, ten years older than the taller, bald man.
“They monitor-”
“Brain activity and other measurables,” Marci said with disinterest. “We’ve worked with everything here.”
“Under this lighting,” Walt said. “You appear tired, Mrs. Padesky; worn down even.” Walt removed the ostentatious white robe and passed it to Kendra before sinking onto the mattress.
“When’s the last time you looked in a mirror?” Marci snapped.
Before the snide remark struck home, as truth always did, Corey said, “We rest while Dream Riding.”
That paused Walt, who looked to the shorter, gray-haired man. “Did you hear that doctor?”
“By all physiological markers,” Marci said. “We are asleep during the Ride.”
Corey withheld his urge to warn them about the visual tracers and hallucinations that appear after stretches. If these men were going to control this power, let them learn its downside the hard way.
“I’m not saying I believe any of this,” Kendra said to Walt, “But if a person could work as they slept, it would essentially double that person’s lifespan.”
“Receiving the Rides qualify as doubling life spans,” Walt said. “It makes waking life the annoyance.”
Marci stepped between Walt and Kendra. “You have your science buddies here to observe, record, and detail our work. That’s fine, but we need a quiet, professional atmosphere to do our job. So I must make two final requests.”
Walt grinned, and slapped his knees. “Tell me.”
“First, we need a blanket so I can make an area for Janey to sit and sleep when she grows tired. Second, your sidekicks must leave the room. They can watch the show on film anytime, but I can’t focus if either of them are near me,” Marci said.
Walt extended his arms on his knees, straightened his back, and frowned.
“You’ll have your doctors in here,” Marci added. “And the henchmen can stay right outside, but that man is a savage and I won’t leave him alone with my daughter. Not ever again.”
Walt’s eyes moved to Kendra.
“I don’t imagine she’s much better,” Marci said. “I’m being very transparent. I want my family to leave here safe and sound. For that to happen, we’ll keep our end of the bargain: a successful Dream Ride for you. The results will give your team plenty to think about. But I’m doing all I can to not claw out eyes.”
“Just so we are clear,” Walt said. “If you try anything, I’ll remove the muzzles, we’ll cross into a land of no return, and you’ll learn how savage we can be.”
“We only want this to be over,” Corey said.
“And money for our troubles,” Marci said. “But these two are out, and we leave this house the minute our part in your Ride is up—while you’re still asleep—no questions asked.”
“Fair enough,” Walt said.
“I want to hear them say it,” Marci said.
Walt looked to Cooper, who said, “Makes my job easier,” and then left.
Kendra, who held a s
cowl, said, “Is that really what you want? They have no leverage. I say we keep them for as long as we want.”
“Never underestimate the value of giving your lessers a concession,” Walt said. “Also, the million dollar check will keep them close.”
“If that’s what you want, I’ll allow them to leave once the Ride is complete,” Kendra said, and exited.
Marci moved to the side of the bed, removed her abracadabra necklace, and spooled in on to the medical cart.
Kendra returned clutching a comforter and pillow.
Corey pulled the items from her lingering grip.
Kendra darted her eyes from each occupant. “I’m not comfortable with any of these requests.”
“But you will follow them,” Walt said with authority.
Marci shooed the woman back. “He’ll be fine.” She said as she closed the door, engaged the lock, and moved strands of hair behind both of her ears.
FORTY-FOUR
The current of Walt’s dream rippled through Corey. Having experienced a two-week Riding abeyance, he welcomed the gale, even with its skew toward darker emotions.
They were in a dimly lit, but clearly defined, theater. Marci stood at a black granite podium. Corey was on a VIP balcony. The stage area was wooden and well-lit.
Corey spun in a circle as he examined the slow-moving dark mass twirling around the theater. It was black and cloud-like. Every so often, a brown ripple, like a vine growing at fast speeds, would intertwine with the mass.
A hot, bitter flavor, similar to ripe apple cider, seasoned the air as the winds cooled under Marci’s control. Instead of a light horizontal breeze flowing from left to right, the emotional winds circled the theater, as if the mass was sucking it all in.
Corey stared at the empty spot on the balcony for many seconds, and braced for the unwanted company. Nothing materialized. Being alone added confusion, because he sensed additional malignancies in the air.
A corona of inky-purple outlined Marci. The detectable rage floated from her and joined the mass. Corey pushed out a big breath as an icy chill ran through him.
