Sea of Dreams

by Bevill, C. L.

  “A skull,” Kara repeated, horrified. Her expression was aghast. She looked around as if ascertaining our safety. “I thought you buried…”

  “I did,” he said gruffly. “Either he unburied it or he had others.”

  “The bikes are in a carport, two blocks down,” Kara said. “So I left them last week. If he was watching, then…”

  “Then we’ll come up with another plan. Bring only water and the crossbows,” Zach instructed as if he were the elder of the pair. He looked down at me. “A blanket for her. It’s going to be a long night.”

  “I can’t ride a bike,” I muttered. I didn’t want to beg them not to leave me, but deep inside I feared for them. If they had to choose between protecting me and saving themselves, I had no compulsion about the right answer. “You’ve got to…go on,” I said on a heartfelt sigh. Then I added the emphasis, “Leave me and go. I’ll lock myself in the room.”

  Zach stood over me while Kara hurried upstairs. He watched the area and the room upstairs. There was enough light from the twilight to see in all directions but the shadows were growing into areas of potential hazard.

  “Listen, Sophie,” he said forcefully and I could see his angry face. He glared at me for a moment, and then he began to speak. “We’ll get out of here. This man, this…thing…can’t chase us very far. He’s injured, too, from what you said. Burned and probably has some broken bones from the fall. If I have to, I’ll stop him in whatever way I can.” He drew in a deep breath and then included vehemently, “And there’s no way in hell that we’re leaving you behind.”

  Shuddering, I just looked up at Zach. Weak and dizzy, I was damning myself because I couldn’t help more. When Kara returned clutching the procured items, Zach picked me up again and they headed down the street.

  Fortunately, their bicycles were still where Kara had left them. Two new K2 bicycles were parked in the carport and unmolested. A bicycle trailer had been attached to the man’s bike. It was big enough to carry materials like sleeping bags and food and then some. Zach unceremoniously dumped everything out and put me inside. My knees were bent but it wasn’t altogether uncomfortable. He carefully tucked the blanket around me and loaded three gallons of water beside me. Then he gave me a crossbow that was nocked into firing position. He put the quiver of bolts in the pocket of the wall of the trailer so I could easily reach it. It wasn’t mine but it was close enough that I knew what to do with it.

  Finally, he brushed his fingers across my check and when I looked up, Kara was smirking. I was certain she couldn’t see the color of my cheeks but she probably knew I was blushing just as brilliantly as the sun set.

  It was perhaps almost a half mile’s ride back to the Oregon Coast Highway from where the house was located. Through streets crowded with vacation homes and then through a strip mall area we rode. Kara was in front. Zach took the rear, and there I was in the trailer. I twisted around in my makeshift seat and watched our rear. I thought I saw movement in the shadows and then a trio of deer nervously scampered across the road, agitated by our hurried passing. I wondered what they were doing in the middle of the small town, but it hardly mattered.

  Then we were back on Highway 101. Kara was breathing heavily, but her strong limbs pumped endlessly. Zach carefully controlled his breathing as he strained with the extra weight. I watched as the twilight faded from red to purple to black. The stars began to pop up with an alacrity that I couldn’t appreciate. Struggling with the effort to stay alert enough to see behind us, I shifted around the trailer causing Zach to call, “Careful, Sophie. You don’t want to tip us over.”

  I saw something and I lifted my head to figure out what I was looking at. It wasn’t an immediate threat so I studied it painstakingly. “Zach,” I said loudly after a minute, almost warningly.

  Zach turned his head for a moment, and then allowed the bicycle to coast to a stop. Kara glanced behind her and saw that we had come to a halt. He turned his upper body so that he could fully see what I was seeing. We watched for a long minute before Zach motioned for Kara to go again.

  I kept looking back and finally I said, “It’s the motel, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Zach grunted. “Yes, I’m pretty sure.”

  The place where we had spent the last week, I in a mostly oblivious state, was on fire. The winds were feeding the flames and the entire place looked as if gasoline had been poured upon each inch. It burned so well that it only took a matter of minutes before it collapsed into itself. We heard the noise a few seconds later, and Zach slowed to look behind us again. The fire was moving onto other buildings in the path of the wind. Another building was aflame and others looked as though the embers were beginning to ignite them.

  After that he went back to their frenetic pace. Wherever the man was located, none of us wanted to be near it. After a while I couldn’t see any more flames.

  I wasn’t certain how they could see to tell where we were going until Kara called eagerly, “Look, Sophie.”

  Our little friends, the firefly pixies, were back. They streamed along the road before us like roadside flares. Little flares but there all the same. They led in the same direction, away from the man who had tried to kill me.

  After an hour or so, Zach was done. I could feel his limbs shaking with overuse. His breath came in harsh gasps. He began to slow, looking for something to help us, for somewhere to stop for awhile. The world was black and I couldn’t see anything except the firefly pixies and the long expanse of darkness stretching out behind us. Finally, they led us off the main road and to a house that was set back amongst a stand of trees.

  When we stopped one of the little creatures lit upon my arm, standing there with its small wings fluttering anxiously. I sat very still and looked down at the animal that had helped us. The glow of their bioluminescence enabled me to see it clearly. Kara was right. They looked like tiny little humans, with elongated features and forest green skin. Their eyes were large and bug-like. Their butterfly-like wings were delicate creations of green translucent material, seeming almost too fragile to actually be of use. He or she, or was it an it?, frankly returned my look and then shook its minuscule head. There was another scolding buzz as its body glowed extra-brightly for a moment, and the firefly pixie returned to the fold. The group circled us twice and then lit off into the night, leaving us in a black pool where only the stars above were visible. Even the moon was absent.

  Zach said, “I’ve got a glow stick we can use for light, but we need to get inside and make sure we’re in an inside room without windows before I break it open.”

  Kara groaned as she got off her bicycle. “I’ve got to stop at the next big city and get another shot. My knees might have been rebuilt but they weren’t meant for this kind of action.”

  I was still looking up at the sky when Zach bent over me. “Are you all right, Sophie?” he murmured.

  “I kept looking back,” I said. “I never saw him. I don’t think he could be following us.” My voice trailed away. “But I suppose he could have seen which way we went. Would the firefly pixies tell us somehow?”

  Zach took the crossbow out of my hands. I had forgotten I was holding it. “I know you were watching. I wasn’t worried.”

  “Zach,” I said, using his name for the first time. I sensed, rather than saw him tense up at the usage. “Is the moon gone?”

  When Zach picked me up, still wrapped in the blanket, he cursed rather than answered my odd question. “You’re all wet, Sophie,” he said, finally. “Kara, is the door open?”

  There was a sound of breaking glass. “It is now,” she said. “Sophie, are you sweating? Do you have a fever again?”

  Carrying me inside the house, Zach inched around until they found a room that was on the back side of the house. It was a guest bedroom with a king sized bed. Kara closed the blinds and then the heavy curtains before Zach put me on the bed. Then he broke the glow stick, shaking it fiercely, and raised it up to see.

  “Oh, God,” Kara said brokenly. “Your ha
nd is covered with blood, Zach.”

  Zach looked at his hand before he looked down at me in dismay. I had felt the stitches give on my shoulder but I hadn’t wanted Zach and Kara to stop. I had even felt the blood as it started to flow down the hole in my back where the knife had gone cleanly through. I had ignored it because their safety was more important.

  Kara rolled me over onto my side and I thought that everything seemed a little dim. The green light from the glow stick made the room seem dark and sinister. There were too many shadows and too many places for…things to hide. I moaned and Zach said, “What’s wrong?”

  Placing her hand on my forehead, Kara said, “She’s running a fever again. And this is a lot of blood loss. Do you know your blood type, Sophie?”

  “Blood type,” I repeated. My last biology class had a blood test we had performed and I had donated blood once. My blood type was relatively rare. “AB,” I said.

  “Yes,” Kara said loudly with a note of approval that seemed at odds with the situation. “Great news. Get my bag, Zach, you’re a donor.”

  “Don’t I have to be AB?” Zach asked flatly. “Because I don’t know what type I am and I don’t want to-”

  “Quick science lesson,” Kara interrupted as she stripped the blanket from my back and pulled the sodden jersey away from my skin. “Give me your knife, Zach; I have to cut this material away.” I heard the words but I didn’t comprehend the message. The feel of tugging material and the sound of slicing accompanied her speaking, making me shiver more. “AB blood type is considered the universal recipient, just like O negative is the universal donor. Ideally AB blood would be the best but since I’m A positive and you don’t know what you are, she’s going to take yours. Why you? You’re stronger than I am. If she needs more, I’ll donate tomorrow. Right now I need the needles and tubes we used for the I.V.”

  I almost shrieked when Kara pressed something firmly against the back of my injured shoulder. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I’ve got to stop the bleeding or this is going to be all for nothing.”

  “Don’t say that,” Zach hissed.

  “Okay,” Kara soothed. “She’s got a good chance with her blood type.”

  I closed my eyes and wished for something else to happen. As it turned out I got my wish almost immediately.

  ♦

  There was a light. It was so powerful I had to blink my eyes, but I found I couldn’t. All I could do was to stare at it. It seemed to invite me in, but I didn’t want to go, and someone was urgently calling my name. Someone was begging me not to leave them. I felt so much compassion for that person that I turned away and I went back to the real world, even though I was very much aware of the mental and physical pain that was awaiting me. It came down on me like a crushing wall of stone and I screamed.

  ♦

  When I woke up again, the sky that I could see through the now open window was just starting to turn from gray to blue. Someone was holding my hand. I could hear something else. “Are they singing?” Zach asked softly.

  “Hush,” Kara said.

  It was a song. It was a song unlike any I had ever heard before. The eerie resonance wailed through the room and surrounded me like a warm blanket. I felt the sting of the needle in my arm as I moved slightly, but the sound seemed to drown out the feeling of pain and I didn’t really mind. My shoulder was a dull throb that pulsated underneath the cotton wool that pressed down upon me. Unexpectedly, my chest hurt as well, as if someone had been sitting on top of it.

  At first I didn’t understand what was happening. My eyes looked slowly around and then I saw the first of the firefly pixies. They were perched on every surface of the room. There were a few settled on the quilted blanket atop my abdomen and my legs. Kara was crouched motionlessly at the foot of the bed. Zach was to my right side, the tubing that Kara used to transfuse his blood was still connected to my arm. Blood was still flowing between us. His hand rested on top of mine; his fingers were curled around my palm, emphasizing the difference between the sizes.

  Their uncanny song continued for a moment and then it unexpectedly stopped. One of the little creatures buzzed around my face and I resisted the urge to gently shoo it away. Its tiny eyes studied me for the longest second as if making certain that I was improved and then it zipped away. The remainder of the group launched into the air en masse and vanished down the hallway in a torrent of green light. Their buzzing sounds slowly faded.

  The world was still a fuzzy, distant place. But I no longer felt as though my life was slipping away. The truth be told, all I could wonder was, why me? Why again?

  “Zach,” Kara muttered, looking at my face. They hadn’t known I was awake again.

  Zach stirred and bent over me, careful not to twist the tubing. “Sophie?” he asked tentatively.

  “Why did they come back?” I asked carefully, my words were slurred.

  Swallowing convulsively, Zach visibly grappled with his answer. Finally, he said, “You died. For about a minute, you died. Kara and I gave you CPR. But we didn’t think…”

  Even Kara choked. “We thought you were a goner, kid,” she uttered hoarsely. “I don’t believe I’ve had a worse moment in my life. You won’t believe how hard I prayed for you to take another breath.”

  “We were doing CPR on you when they came back,” Zach said as quietly as he could. “They were with us when you started to breathe again. Then we got the transfusion started about an hour ago. When the sun started to come up, they started to sing.”

  “Like a lullaby,” I whispered.

  “Sure, hon,” Kara said. “Go back to sleep, Sophie. We’ll be here.”

  So I did.

  ♦

  “Another biology lesson,” Kara was saying. “Hyperacute rejection of donated tissues usually applies to donated organs. But the principle is the same. If her immune system sees your blood as not compatible, then her system will start to attack the foreign bodies. And by the way, I think we would have seen symptoms by now, so stop worrying.”

  Zach grumbled.

  “Eat some more, too,” Kara chastised. “Build up your blood again. I know it’s instant oatmeal but it’s better than beef jerky.”

  “I feel better,” I said. “I’ll eat the oatmeal.”

  They didn’t say anything so I wasn’t sure they heard me. But when I opened my eyes they were at the end of the bed staring at me. The sun was up, as indicated by the amount of light pouring into the room, and I was ready to move around. Zach was shirtless with a bandage wrapped around the middle of his arm. One hand held a bowl of what I assumed was instant oatmeal. Kara had a t-shirt on that looked like it was a triple X size and she was only a medium sized woman. Their eyes were red with fatigue.

  “You know, I have a question,” I said, when no one else said anything. “Why does a glow stick work and a bullet doesn’t? Aren’t both a chemical reaction? I don’t get it.”

  Chapter Seven – What’s Next?

  I think that Zach and Kara thought I was still sick, maybe even delusional. But it was just the question that had popped into my head and I couldn’t not say it. No electricity. No phones. Millions of people vanishing overnight. This new world had new creatures, new landscapes, and new rules. I just wanted to read the rule book. The problem was that no one had published it yet. No one was going to publish it for a very long time, if ever.

  Perversely, that reminded me that my notebook had been left behind at the motel and was likely a little pile of ashes in a bigger pile of ashes. “I need another notebook,” I said inanely, floundering like the Titanic.

  They stared at me.

  “Before I forget about all the new animals,” I explained. “I want to write them all down.” I waited for an answer but they were both just standing there. I waved my hand feebly. “Hello? Thank you for saving my life. Can you…uh…talk to me?”

  Kara cleared her throat. “You are better,” she said.

  “The shoulder hurts,” I said mildly. “I’m hungry, though, and I don’t feel lik
e I’m running a fever anymore.”

  Zach put the bowl of oatmeal down on a dresser. “You have to stay in bed,” he said curtly. That sounded like a royal command.

  I didn’t want to stay in bed, but I didn’t want to rip out stitches again. “I’ll stay in bed,” I agreed grudgingly. “Can I have a notebook? If you can find one in this house, and have the firefly pixies been back?”

  “They only left an hour or so ago,” Kara clarified carefully. “I think they’re nocturnal. Mostly anyway.”

  “An hour,” I repeated thoughtfully. That explained Zach and Kara’s surprise. They were probably expecting me to be comatose for another week, maybe with brain damage. “Look, no brain damage from oxygen loss. No organs failing here. Two times two is four,” I said. “E equals MC squared where E equals energy, M is for mass, and C equals the speed of light, otherwise called the theory of relativity by Einstein. My father’s name is…”I stopped abruptly, all good mood disintegrated with the thoughtless chain of words that I had started in a lighthearted mood. “My father’s name…was Freeman and my mother’s name was Miranda.”

  “Wow,” Kara said with forced cheerfulness. “No brain damage in that kid. Good news, right, Zach?”

  The darkness seemed to return to me. I didn’t want to think of all things sinister but they came to me regardless. “Any sign of…him?” Him meant the guy with the bonfire and the affiliation for burnt bones.

  “No,” Zach said succinctly. Closed subject, I read. Do not discuss further. Hah. Since when did I listen to my moral, little inner voice? Was I not a turbulent, argumentative teenager, testing my boundaries?

  “Are we staying here?” I asked sweetly, finding some kind of reserve within me. It might not be the same Earth that I went to sleep on, on the night of the change, but it didn’t mean that I had to endure without asking questions. Zach had asked me to come with them. He had said they wanted me to come. It wasn’t a communist nation overnight. It was still a democracy and I had voting rights.