Fearless Dreamer

by Linda Marr

  “Come… have a seat,” he nodded to an old arm chair across from the sofa. “Keep me company. You should have brought yourself something.”

  “I ate downstairs, thanks.”

  Jeremiah ate ravenously, the way I’d eaten at the farmhouse. I wondered how he’d felt the first time he tasted food in real life. If it was all as bad as the food they served around here, it was even worse than the bland approximation of food the computers had given us in our donor lives. He seemed to know what I was thinking.

  “I never thought I’d ever eat food this bad again.” But his plate was almost empty. “Not that it’s managed to dull my appetite,” he smiled.

  “It is pretty terrible,” I agreed.

  He scraped the last stew from his plate. “I had to think for a while, Elle… but I remember you now.”

  I squeezed my hands together. Now that the homeless man in the alley was the great Jeremiah Bell, did it make him angry that I used to run away from him?

  “I remember you didn’t throw stones,” Jeremiah said softly. “All the other perfect donor boys and girls… when they saw me… they’d throw stones.” He looked at me intensely. “You never did.”

  “But I’d run across the street,” I admitted. “I was scared of you.”

  “That would have been reasonable considering my actions back then. I suppose I did appear crazy. ‘Crazy old Mr. Bell.’”

  I stared.

  “Yes, I’m aware of what they called me. But ignorant children were the least of my concerns.” Jeremiah took a deep breath. He exhaled slowly before speaking again.

  “I suppose you had the nightmare? The pipes… the blood… snakes extending from the ceiling…? You heard that horrible… constant… sound?” Jeremiah sat very still, waiting for my answer, as if moving just one muscle would trigger the most violent of tremors.

  I understood. I didn’t like to think about the donor center either. At last I nodded.

  Jeremiah leaned in closer. “When did they—the nightmares, when did they begin?”

  I shrugged. “It was like they were always there, but they got stronger as I got older.”

  “That must have been frightening. What did you think when you kept seeing the same thing?”

  I would have liked to say I had the same reaction that Jeremiah had. Knowing what was true and what was false. But I hadn’t been that fearless. I had just been a dreamer. Then.

  “I wanted the dreams to stop,” I admitted, “that’s all.”

  “But they didn’t,” Jeremiah’s eyes were still fixed on me; his voice wrapped around me, drawing me in. “The dreams didn’t stop because you wouldn’t let them. Many others have the same dreams, but they ignore them. Why, Elle? Why wouldn’t you let them go?”

  He was pushing me. Why did he want to know so badly? How could I answer when I didn’t have any idea myself? So I just told him the truth.

  “I had to live,” I met Jeremiah’s fiery gaze. “And now that I am alive, really alive, I am going to help others do the same.”

  Jeremiah eased back into the cushions. The challenging intensity disappeared from his voice. Apparently I’d passed some kind of test.

  “Young donors realizing they want to wake up are extremely rare. Most of the time, it takes people years before they can look at their nightmares. And even then, they can’t face reality.”

  I was trying, that’s why I was here.

  “That requires a certain bravery that many young people don’t have. Waking up is painful, isn’t it? Much like the process of birth,” he added dryly.

  I thought about Kavan, he was young when he woke up too, and probably braver about it than I was. I missed him more every time I thought about him. What I wouldn’t give to feel my hand in his right now. Would I ever see him again?

  “Only we’re not innocent babes, are we?” Jeremiah went on, and I forced myself to pay attention. “We don’t have all the time in the world to believe in the inevitability of our dreams. You’re the only other donor here right now. Most of them come, see what we’re up against, and leave again. Let’s just say, that big push to wake up knocks the fight out of them. Did you know that, Elle?”

  I shook my head, reluctant to speak, as if the sound of my voice might somehow stop Jeremiah from talking. I needed to hear what he had to say, but I couldn’t stop myself. I had to ask him one important question.

  “How did you finally escape?”

  “I simply woke up,” he said. Although we both knew it wasn’t so simple. “I was rescued. Much like you, I presume.”

  I nodded.

  “My kind rescuers introduced me to the world, helped me regain the use of most of my limbs,” he looked at his useless legs. “They taught me how to live, much like the people in your rescue group, I imagine. I will be forever grateful. But their strengths were also their weakness.”

  I looked at Jeremiah, “How?”

  “Their kindness and compassion is a cloak that keeps them safe and warm. There’s something to be said for that, there’s nobility in nurturance. But safety doesn’t guarantee freedom.”

  “I know,” I said softly, thinking of the people I cared about at the farmhouse. He felt the same way I did. We both had to go out on our own to save more than just ourselves. For the first time, I was truly glad I was here.

  “Freedom is hard fought and often brutal. You’re a smart young woman. I assume you’ve read some history books. Race, religion, culture… anyone who’s different has had to struggle to claim their place in this world. And now, people are battling once again. But one thing I believe they all could agree on is that the donor program is no more than the worst kind of slavery, and that each and every donor not only should, but must be set free.”

  What Jeremiah said made sense. I wanted to tell him so, but there was a knock on the door and Hector entered without waiting for reply. He looked at us with displeasure, black eyes burning. This man was going to help Jeremiah’s vision come true? I wished I didn’t dislike him so much. What could Jeremiah see in him?

  “Jeremiah,” Hector said smoothly. “There’s someone to see you.”

  Jeremiah smiled, dismissing me. “Thank you for bringing my dinner, Elle.” He handed me his plate. “I’ve enjoyed our talk. You must come again. But for now I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

  I watched as Jeremiah looked over my shoulder and the closeness I felt was instantly gone. The atmosphere had changed from one of intimate understanding to a business-like coldness. It was as if everything we’d just shared between us had never happened.

  Hector opened the door wider, ushering in a man who might as well have been his less handsome brother, also dark, bearded, and cheerless. He, too, barely acknowledged me, as if my presence was too insignificant to matter.

  They’ll realize how valuable I am, I thought. I could tell I was already going to be valuable to Jeremiah. I wondered what he’d say when I told him I was a dream walker.

  I stepped out onto the altar. Jeremiah’s door hadn’t quite shut. I was about to pull it closed, when I heard Hector. “…tired of waiting. Gideon’s here… he has experience in these situations.”

  What situations? I could hear Hector pacing, waiting for Jeremiah to answer. I wanted to stay and hear more, but I didn’t think Hector would take kindly to my eavesdropping. Once again I wondered why Jeremiah had chosen him as his right hand man. Maybe because he seemed bad enough to keep other bad things away.

  I started to slip off when I heard Hector ask “Well, Jeremiah? What do you say?”

  I stopped in my tracks. Still no answer.

  “Make a decision,” Hector demanded, a trace of something like exhilaration seeping into his cold, hard voice.

  The back of my neck pickled. What decision, I wondered? Whatever it was, it felt vitally important.

  Hector’s voice was so close now. Inside the room Hector stopped his pacing, and his body grazed the side of the door. It moved slightly. I had to leave. Any moment Hector would realize it wasn’t shut, and
if he opened it and saw me, I didn’t know what would happen. But it wouldn’t be something good.

  I forced myself to inch away. But as I did, I heard Jeremiah’s voice - “Go ahead.”

  So Hector’s plan, whatever it was, had been put into motion. Suddenly, I was exhausted.

  When I was with Jeremiah, everything good seemed possible. It was the way he spoke. It was who he was.

  But as soon as I was away from him, everything seemed far less than possible. Maybe it was the hardness I heard in Hector’s voice. It wasn’t the voice of a hero.

  All at once, I felt lost and alone. Whatever he’d just agreed to was undoubtedly something that could affect me and my family’s rescue. I had to trust that it would be good. That was what brought me here after all. I couldn’t second guess myself now.

  Again, I ached for the farmhouse. For Kavan. People who seemed to care about me, even if I didn’t agree with them. I told myself Jeremiah must care, if not about me personally, then about donors and what would become of them, and that was what mattered. But what about Hector and all the other men? Were they just soldiers of fortune, paid, perhaps to follow Jeremiah? Jax hadn’t told me that part, I had no idea, and I was almost too tired to think about it.

  Glancing around, I didn’t know where I would sleep tonight. I crept slowly to the very rear of the church, and found a pew that was still cushioned. I lay down, and curled myself into a tight ball.

  The only thing I could do now was sleep. And maybe that was the best thing. I could dream walk, maybe if I really tried, I could see Kavan.

  But I had just closed my eyes when I heard footsteps, and then a hand shook me.

  “Hey,” Jax said.

  He looked tired, even more tired than I felt. There were darker circles under his amber eyes. “I’ve been looking for you. I heard you went in with Bell himself. Rising up in the world, Sparkles?”

  I sat up, and he dropped down in the pew next to me.

  “It wasn’t anything,” I shrugged. “I brought his dinner. He wanted to talk about how we’re both – well, you know.”

  “Alike?”

  “Right,” I said.

  “Not many people get called in for a chat. It’s a big deal.”

  Was it? Was Jax envious that I had? He didn’t seem to be, just curious.

  “You’re not sleeping here, are you?”

  “I was thinking of it,” I replied, “unless you’ve got another idea.”

  “Get up,” he motioned for me to follow him.

  We left the main sanctuary, and crossed the ante-room where most of the men seemed to be settling down for the night.

  “I don’t want to sleep in there.”

  “Who would,” Jax opened a door to another pitch black hallway. “Follow me,” he said, as he strode ahead of me, pulling out his flashlight. “It’s easy to get lost back here.”

  “No kidding,” I said as the first hall led to another. I was almost too tired to be scared. Here I was once again, following this guy I barely knew into the darkness. His flashlight showed glimpses of abandoned offices crammed with boxes, old desks piled on top of each other. Finally Jax stopped at the end of another corridor, at a closed door. There was a huge crack in it that ran like a bolt of lightning, top to bottom.

  He set his shoulder against the door and pushed. He slipped inside. “C’mon.”

  I followed; the sides of the door grating against my skin. The room was so small, I felt like I had voluntarily pushed my way into a coffin. The flashlight disappeared for a moment leaving me in blackness. Then there was a flicker of light and a soft glow spread over a pile of desks and chairs heaped together. Jax must’ve lit a candle somewhere.

  I couldn’t see him, but I found a narrow path through the jumble, as if I was winding my way into a forest of junk. Suddenly the clutter opened to a small circular clearing.

  Jax was crouched in the center, lighting fat white alter candles. He’d bunched them together, creating a circle of fire. All around us cardboard boxes towered, casting long shadows.

  “Not bad, right?”

  “It’s… great,” I said, still looking around.

  Almost hidden below one of the stacks of boxes was a metal desk. The space there had been cleaned of debris. There were a couple of blankets laid out to make a bed.

  “No one finds me here if I don’t want them to. So keep it quiet.”

  “Don’t worry,” I replied quickly.

  “This is the best place I’ve found, since my mom’s old house got bombed into rubble.”

  “What happened to your mom?”

  He hesitated for a moment. “She was already gone by then. Cancer.”

  I saw Jax differently now, less hard, more lonely. Someone who’d done what he had to do to survive.

  “Do you miss her?” I thought of my mom and dad, of Troy, of the baby –

  “Sure. But that’s the past.”

  “I’ve heard that before.”

  Wasn’t that what Kavan had said when we were dream walking? That you couldn’t hold on to the past. You had to let it go.

  “Jeremiah’s the future,” Jax said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s the only one that’s come along that knows what he’s talking about. He sees everything so clearly.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “There’s no one else like him. I’d do anything for him.” His face was flushed with intensity. “He’s going to change the world,” Jax said softly.

  I crawled under the desk and pulled a blanket over me, but Jax’ words stayed with me.

  Jax lay down too. I still didn’t know what to make of him, but he didn’t scare me anymore. The candle light flickered long shadows across his weary face.

  I closed my eyes but I tossed and turned. When I finally fell asleep, I dream walked a million places, I couldn’t keep them all straight. And then finally, I saw Kavan. My heart jumped.

  He was standing across the lake in the park, in bathing trunks, his body toned and muscular, his short blonde hair rippling slightly in the breeze. He looked so good.

  I needed to talk to him. I couldn’t worry whether or not he’d be angry at me. Or if he’d even want to see me, after the way I’d deserted him. All the same, for a moment I didn’t move. I wanted to tell him how sorry I was, and how much I missed him. There was nothing in the world I wanted to do more. So I started to walk toward him, and then I ran, and then - just before I reached him, he disappeared.

  I woke with a start. Had Kavan seen me? Was that the reason he’d disappeared so quickly? He hated me that much?

  At first all I heard was the thunderous beat of my heart pounding in my chest. As my confusion cleared, I vowed that the next time I saw Kavan in my dreams, I wouldn’t hesitate. No matter how angry he might be at me, I would reach him. I had to hear his voice again.

  It was morning. Jax was gone; his blanket tossed aside, candles extinguished. I groped my way down the narrow halls, fumbling my way back to the cafeteria, hoping there’d be something that resembled breakfast. And there was, but barely. Hector and most of the others were there, pointedly ignoring me, but no sign of Jax.

  I hung around all day, trying to hear what was going on. There was tension in the air, everyone seemed ready for something, but for what I didn’t know. I was frustrated and angry, and the men intimidated me. But I hadn’t come here just to stand around and wait, and still Jax was nowhere to be found.

  I waited for Jeremiah to reach out to me, to tell me what my role would be in his plan. What else could I do?

  But after lunch, I shoved my plate aside, and followed the men when they left the cafeteria.

  They were in the church, all of them. Some kind of meeting was going on. I edged my way closer to the front. Jeremiah wheeled himself onto the altar, Hector behind him, his expression stonier than usual.

  “So Hector has told me we now we have a way to break the electric current that prevents us from showing footage of the donor centers,” Jeremiah
said.

  A ripple of excitement moved through the taciturn men. I knew this was a big deal. At the farmhouse they could receive a center’s image but couldn’t send it out, even if they’d wanted to. So Jeremiah had come up with a way to break those currents?

  Jeremiah went on. “We can now take pictures of the donors, and release them to the public.”

  This was his plan? Wouldn’t people just ignore what they saw, like they seemed to be ignoring the wars, the destruction? But Jeremiah seemed to think it would make a difference. So I had to believe that it would, too.

  Jeremiah went on. “That’s just the start. The public is used to the bombs, to the hunger. But seeing people being grown in vats, treated like things, that’s something that will shock them out of their complacency. You’ll see, everyone will clamor to get the donors out, to rehabilitate them.”

  I hoped he was right. “How can I help?” I called out.

  “You can’t,” Hector snapped.

  But Jeremiah smiled at me. “Be patient, Elle. When we start bringing all the donors home, you’ll be a big help then. You know what it’s like to adjust to the real world.”

  I shook my head. I wanted to be right there, on the front line of whatever action they had planned. I wanted to ask what center, when, and how were they going to show the photos? But Jeremiah was already leaving the altar, with Hector close behind, and the men were breaking into small groups. Which of course didn’t include me.

  Fine then, I’d figure out what was going on myself.

  I left the church, and walked through the vestibule where the men slept. Most of their personal possessions were tucked away in duffel bags or knapsacks. But I saw a small book lying open on the floor. It was covered in brown leather, with no writing on the cover. Many of the men carried books like that. They never put them down, and they tucked them away quickly whenever they saw me. I figured it must have something to do with Jeremiah’s plan.

  Finally now I had a chance to take a look. But it wasn’t what I expected at all. Nothing about the donors or a rescue plan. It was some kind of religious book. Not a Bible. Various words jumped out - repent… end of times… through blood this becomes our kingdom.

  I heard a harsh voice behind me. “Take your hands off that.”