by Jaymin Eve
After dinner, Chrissie, a lanky fifteen-year-old with masses of thick brunette waves, cornered me in the hallway. Living up to her goth persona, she was dressed entirely in black.
“Where were you today, Abby?”
We sat on the bottom ledge of the large wooden staircase, just down the hall from the dining room.
“Went for a jog outside the compound.”
It was unusual to spend time chatting with Chrissie; she hated small talk. So I knew there would be a point to this conversation.
She fidgeted a little. “You were gone for a long time. What’s it like out there?”
I shrugged. “It’s fine most of the time, although I’ve had a few scary moments.”
A calculating look crossed her face. “Not this week, Olden’s here, but next time she’s away ... um ... can I come?”
My eyes widened. No one ever wanted to go outside the gates. I couldn’t even get Lucy to run with me. Chrissie was too young to be allowed out on her own; we’d have to sneak.
“Uh, sure. If you really want to.” I wasn’t thrilled to have the responsibility of another person out there. But I was curious and I’d hate to think she’d brave the streets on her own.
Nodding, Chrissie jumped to her feet. “I would very much like to see what’s happening outside the gates. Let me know.”
I nodded as she walked off.
That was strange.
I made my way upstairs to get ready for bed. As an added bonus the delay resulted in an empty third-floor bathroom. The room held an array of toilets, sinks and shower stalls, and with twenty girls currently residing it was rarely unoccupied. I took my time brushing my teeth and washing my face. We had strict water rations, two-minute showers and drop-pit toilets.
Finally clean, I straightened to meet my own green eyes reflected back at me.
As a child I’d been painfully shy, hating any attention. The unique color of my eyes – almost emerald green – and large oval shape assured I received plenty of stares. But now I no longer cared about blending in. I was just grateful I didn’t have the freckles usually accompanying red hair and fair skin.
Although my hair was another anomaly. It fell in curls, not quite ringlets except those shorter tendrils framing my face, to my mid back, and it wasn’t a standard golden red: it was a deep blood red with undertones of black. It was unusual enough that the girls speculated I’d somehow managed to procure hair dye. But that’d been non-existent for many years.
I gave my expression one last grimace, my full, red lips thinning, before I turned to leave the room.
I made my way down the hall to the room I shared with Lucy. She was sprawled across my bed, wearing her favorite purple flannel pajamas. A thick novel lay open in front of her. Her attention never wavered as I stretched out next to her. It took a few minutes before she flicked a page and spoke.
“Are you actually gracing me with your presence, Abigail? To what do I owe such an honor?”
I smirked. “Honestly, Luce, I just felt a need to give something back. You know, to those lesser.”
She raised an eyebrow, flicking across to the next page. “You are going the right way to end up on my list, Abigail.”
My smirk fell. Lucy’s list was not a place you wanted to be. The last girl who got on her bad side ended up with her hair glued to a school desk.
“Sorry, Luce, I was staring at myself in the training mirrors and my butt looked huge. I had no choice. I had to get out for a run.”
Shaking her head, she sighed. “As if your tall lanky butt would ever look big. Try being five foot, Abbs. I look at a picture of a donut and it attaches to my thighs.”
I laughed. Lucy was curvy in all the right places, without an ounce of fat anywhere else.
“Did you have to mention donuts?” My mouth watered. I was eight the last time we had their sugary goodness. But there was no way to forget.
We’d had canned beans and an unidentified rodent stew for dinner. We had learned to never expect junk or fresh food; they were the rarest of all. We didn’t starve, but much of the joy from food was missing.
I attempted my nightly routine of taming my curls into a braid. Lucy took pity on me, helping out when my ribs screamed loudly at me. After she finished, I relaxed back into my pillows.
“So what happened today? I’m assuming you didn’t plan on being out until the middle of the night, worrying your blood sister to death.” Lucy could lay on the guilt with the best of them.
“You were in self-defense. You know how boring I find the basic classes. I can’t even believe we still have to attend them.”
“They seem to think we’ll forget everything if we don’t repeat absolutely every class.” Lucy shook her head. “And don’t diverge from the topic. What happened?”
I skimmed over my day. Most of it was unimportant.
Except the encounter in the alley.
It was foremost in my mind. I spent the most amount of time describing every little nuance.
Lucy shook her head, confusion warring with humor and fear.
“Who are you, Abigail? You jump from one dangerous situation to another and yet somehow escape unscathed. I’m afraid one day your luck will run out.” She glared at me. “If you die, I’m going to find you, bring you back, and kill you again. Understand?”
“Understood, psycho!”
She patted my head.
Ignoring her condescension, I continued. “I need to go back and find him. I need answers. The curiosity is killing me.”
I hadn’t planned on telling her – she was a worrier – but keeping secrets is not my strong suit.
She nailed me with her ‘look’, freezing me to the spot.
“We should consider ourselves lucky that you escaped today without losing any body parts. He said he was your watcher? Do you really want to chase down weird alley stalkers?”
“I can’t stop thinking about how he made me feel.”
She shook her head. “I swear worrying about you is giving me gray hair.”
I wanted to reassure her that everything would be fine, but we lived with zero guarantees.
“I’m eighteen in a month and, as Olden so kindly pointed out, onto the streets we go. It’s not exactly my dream to join a resistance group. I don’t want to be a foot soldier in this pointless war.”
Lucy nodded, unease plying her pixie features.
“I feel restless, Abbs. I’m getting no sleep, and wrinkles, I think.” To reiterate her point, her forehead crinkled. “My thoughts are that we should get out of New York. There’s no future for us here. We have nothing to lose by checking to see if it’s this bad everywhere.”
I shook my head in frustration. “I know I say this every day, but what the hell is wrong with people? War is so short-sighted. They’re destroying the very world they have to live in.”
“Yep, people are stupid. That we established long ago.”
“Word.” I shook my head. “And stupid’s an understatement. Not nearly strong enough to describe this idiocy. Slow, dim-witted, dense, moronic...” I trailed off and Lucy picked it up.
“Brainless, thick, dumb-ass.”
I laughed out loud. “I think you nailed it. They take dumbass-ness to an entirely new level.”
A wave of exhaustion flowed over me. “And you’re right. New York is just too dangerous. If only we had family to go to.”
Lucy lay back against the pillows, her expression grim. Her tone had far less bounce than usual. “Well, my parents are dead. Car bomb saw to that. And I guess if no one has come forward for you after eighteen years, then yours are either dead or somewhere far from here.”
It was incomprehensible to me that my parents were dead. I knew they were out there somewhere. I shrugged, flinching as the movement tugged on my ribs. “We’ve never relied on anyone else before. Plus, we’re smart enough to figure this out. Surely.”
Lucy laughed and, reaching over, fist-pumped me. “Smarter than the average rebel.”
I yawne
d loudly, barely keeping my eyes open.
Lucy saved my ribs the painful effort by switching off the main light for me. She dived into her bed, whilst I pulled back my covers and crawled under. There was a real chill in the air. A little more effort to insulate these old buildings would be much appreciated.
“Night.” I yawned again.
“Night, Aribella.”
I groaned. “Seriously, not you too! Was that the only thing you took from today?”
She laughed. “Aribella suits you.”
“Go to sleep, Lucy Laurell.”
“Sure, use my full name. Totally scary.”
“I still think we need middle names, you know, for dramatic effect.”
Lucy laughed. “We’re abandoned teens, Abbs, we can’t afford middle names.” She dropped her bottom lip.
I snorted with laughter. “Word.”
She let a few chuckles escape. “The other day I was trying to remember when we started using ‘word’.”
I paused for a moment. “You know, I have no idea either, but we can’t give it up now, the memories. Remember that day we answered every one of Olden’s questions with ‘word’?”
Snorting laughter sounded from Lucy. “Totally worth the week of scrubbing floors.”
Smiling, I switched off the bedside lamp. Darkness flooded the room. Sleep claimed me instantly, and there I was, in my dream world. It had taken a few years for me to realize how unusual it was to have the exact same dream – every week – for as long as I could remember.
Dream-me started her adventure in an immense forest. Ancient gnarled trees and dense overgrown green foliage spanned as far as the eye could see.
As usual, I found myself wandering aimlessly through the peaceful expanse. Waiting for them to find me. The woman arrived first, stepping out of the vast tree-line to stand before me. She was beautiful – tall, with straight black hair that hung almost to her waist. She looked to be in her early thirties, but her eyes held the weight from many more years.
She radiated intoxicating warmth. Generally we stood there, simply staring. I soaked up the feeling for as long as I could, and, just as I was expecting her to move on, something changed. A sense of urgency filtered through the forest. Clutching my hand, she pulled me closer. Leaning in, she spoke.
“We love you.” Unlike the usual dream fuzziness, the words were soft but clear. “Find the blue stone.”
Then she was gone.
Reaching out, I fought to keep the warmth, but my hands clutched empty air. Sorrow flooded through me. I’d lost something vital.
At that point, a distraction stepped through the forest – which had turned strangely misty – capturing my full attention. My stupid heart galloped away in my chest.
He isn’t real, I repeated over and over.
He was astonishingly perfect, and, unlike the woman, had only started appearing a few years ago. I had long reached the conclusion that he was too amazing to exist anywhere but in dreamland. Broad-shouldered and tall – well, more like giant – he had messy dark hair that fell around sculpted features. My favorite part – his eyes. Surrounded by thick sooty lashes they were a deep rich brown. When they focused on me everything else faded away.
We stared, the moment powerful. Energy hummed in the short distance between us. I wanted to move even closer, but something held me back. His lips turned up in a quizzical smile, and he was the one to close the distance. His large hands engulfed my face on either side.
Leaning down from his great height, he rested his forehead against mine. We fit together in that moment, two puzzle pieces that until that point had been clattering around in an empty box. And then he was gone. The emotions in my dream world were so intense; the sense of loss was sharp and biting. Eventually, as always, the world faded and the darkness of a dreamless sleep consumed me.
Much too early the next morning I found myself jarred awake. Glancing over to the small side window, I saw heavy sunlight streaming through. I had slept long and soundly for the rest of the night. In typical dream murkiness, the details were already fading, but, lying back, I contemplated the latest addition from last night – the woman had spoken to me. And in the bright clarity of morning, one detail stood out: she had the same accent as the alley man. Excellent! One more thing to add to my list of strange.
My first attempt at rolling out of bed was pain-filled. I’d forgotten about my ribs. Lifting my flannel shirt, I grimaced. Still an ugly dark purple, although some spots had yellowed. I must admit that I take my ability to heal in a quick manner for granted, but this injury was worse than usual. With a deep breath for courage, I sat up and pulled myself out of bed.
Hobbling down the hall, I pushed my way through the girls in the bathroom to find a spare sink to brush my teeth. No way was I waiting in the shower line this morning; I had a man to find. I took a few minutes to re-braid my hair, needing it off my face.
Back in my room I grabbed some clean clothes from my drawers. The current world crisis doesn’t allow for a high-fashion life. Which is fine by me. I like comfortable. Tattered slim-fit blue jeans, low cut enough to sit below my bruises, and a simple white t-shirt.
Dragging on battered black boots and grabbing my hooded dark-gray coat, I left the room. The weather was reasonably mild this time of year, but with the cold season around the corner the wind could cut right through.
Lucy would be at breakfast; she was an early riser. I have a personal vendetta against all hours before 10am. I didn’t bother with any cosmetics, not that many existed. Lucy’s contact on the outside did procure a few things, such as mascara, which she was addicted to. She was the only person who managed to get clothes and cosmetics smuggled in. Worked out for me too – occasionally a new shirt would magically appear on my bed. But my lashes were already naturally thick and inky black – and with my talent of getting more of the mascara in my eye than on my lashes, I never bothered with it.
Starting down the stairs, I made it to the first landing. As usual I rounded the corner far too quickly. I found myself in a collision. We teetered comically on the ledge before managing to untangle ourselves. I recognized the mass of blond hair: it was Lucy. As she pulled back from me, I noticed she was dressed to impress today.
“Cute shirt, Luce. Who did you bribe to get that one?”
Her love of clothes was well known. She’d teamed a funky purple vintage t-shirt with short denim shorts, long socks and sneakers.
“I’ve told you before, Abbs, if you knew what I did for these things I’d have to kill you. Or myself,” she muttered. Glancing down at her watch, she gasped. “I don’t want to alarm you but ... wait for it ... it’s only 8.30 in the morning.”
Groaning, I massaged my temples. “That’s why I feel like this. I hate mornings. Remember that fight years ago? We haven’t talked since.”
“How could I forget? It was the falling out of the century.” Lucy has sarcasm nailed.
“So, I was coming to find you...”
I would work on the little white lies later. In my determination to find the alley man, I’d completely forgotten about Lucy.
Watching me, eyes narrowed, she shook her head. “Liar!”
I smiled. The girl knew me well.
“You were heading out to find your alley man.”
I laughed. A little too well.
“Can’t get anything past you, but I’m just a tad excited.” Bouncing on my feet, it was probably obvious. “Last night in my dream the woman spoke and, holy mother of gold, her accent was the same as the alley man. I kid you not.”
Her eyebrows hit her hairline. “That’s a strange coincidence. You had any ‘I’m a crazy person’ thoughts, Abbs?”
“Every day, every damn day. But this feels different. Or maybe I just wanted to hear the accent again so badly that I made her speak with it. I don’t know.” I was afraid to get my hopes up.
“It does make sense. You obviously feel a connection to this man and his wicked accent.” She shrugged
. “But since I’ve misplaced my army tanker, there’s no way you’re getting me out on those streets.”
“Chicken.” I knew her instincts were to rise to a challenge.
Her brows narrowed, blue eyes flashing her annoyance. “You know my requirements, Abby. Do you possess the skills to use a decaying dead animal as shelter? And would you recognize the right plants to eat should we get lost?”
I snorted. “Did I miss the memo? Was the compound shifted to Africa overnight?”
“You can never be too prepared. Just saying.”
“If Bear Grylls bred with Chuck Norris, I would be their love child. That’s how skilled I am.”
Lucy’s face remained carefully blank. “Thank you for that disturbing imagery. But we both know Chuck Norris needs no one. He creates children from thought alone.”
“Agree to disagree, Luce. I’m a Bear fan all the way.”
Crossing her arms, she leaned back to observe me. “Despite the fact it’s lame to still discuss shows from twenty years ago, you will never defeat Chuck.”
I shrugged. “Twenty years? You’re being a little generous to old Chuck. And some shows are just timeless.”
“And why are they timeless? Oh, that’s right – the television industry imploded on itself and no more shows were created.”
“Valid point.” I changed the subject. “So are you ready to leave now?”
Running shaky hands through her blond curls, she groaned. “You’re lucky you’re my best friend and those people are hard to replace, Abby.”
“I knew you’d cave. Let’s go.”
She rolled her eyes, but followed me as I skipped down the last few stairs.
I looked back. “Your life would be so boring without me.”
“Imagine that, a boring life, one where we both lived to, like, thirty. Definitely overrated.”
“I know, right. What would we possibly do with all those extra years?”
Unlocking the door, we left without any drama.
Exiting the compound, we both performed security checks and then were on the street front. We hadn’t been given security clearance until after our seventeenth birthday. I have no idea why they decided that was a good age, although most of the girls don’t leave the compound until they’re kicked out at eighteen.
In the deserted morning streets I couldn’t sense any trouble. I guess gangers like to sleep in too. Lucy followed my lead as I started jogging.
Hurrying along the dirty, desolate streets only reminded me how much had changed in my life.
“This is what New York looks like now?” Lucy was aghast. “What the hell happened?” She hadn’t been out since we were kids; the city was almost unrecognizable.
I shook my head, my breathing even as we powered along. “People happened. And, like history, they keep repeating themselves. These power-hungry dumbasses just keep on sucking the world dry.”
“It feels wrong. There’s something really off; I’m holding my breath waiting for the end of days or something.” The strain showed across her features.
“I thought I was imagining it, but a definite undercurrent of malevolence has been growing steadily over the last few years.”
During human relations class, a subject I struggled to endure, our teachers went on about how people are just animals deep down. Decency and morals were merely (and unsuccessfully) cultivated to keep society running smoothly. But once the dark depression started, that pretense disappeared. Even the rebels don’t particularly care about using people. They might not be as blatantly cruel and destructive, but I guess that perspective simply depends on whether you hold the power or are the victim.
Shaking off my dark thoughts, I led Lucy across the last road and into the alley.
“Wow, Abbs, could you have found a creepier alley?” She jumped, wrenching painfully on my bruised side.
“Did you see THAT?” she screeched in my ear.
I shook my head. “I’m not worried about seeing anymore. It’s my hearing that’s been severely compromised.”
She shoved me. “There is no way you missed that. It was a giant bat ... or ... no – it was a rat, with wings.”
I laughed.
She glared and yanked me further into the alley.
“Just hurry the hell up. I feel much more comfortable at the compound. Our own little piece of terror and despair.”
She then refused to budge from her spot near the entrance.
As I moved into the alley, small particles of daylight penetrated the gloom. It was clearly empty. Remembering my hiding spot, I double-checked the dumpsters on my way back.
As I walked toward Lucy, a strange sensation trickled up my spine. Spinning around, I searched for the source. This was familiar, an early-warning system. But the alley was still empty.
As the cold shivers continued to traverse my spinal cord, my vision wavered. I shook my head to clear it when a sudden headache stabbed at my temples. The alley was trembling, spinning. I struggled to remain upright; I couldn’t pass out and leave Lucy alone. Screaming sounded from far away and the pounding continued. Dropping to my knees, I cradled my head in my hands. Unable to take the pressure anymore, it was a relief when consciousness faded.
Awareness returned quickly. I waited, eyes closed, but the pain didn’t return. Excellent. I probably had some rare brain tumor.
“Well, that was the strangest...”
As I opened my eyes, my heart stuttered a few times. Looking around frantically, I tried to comprehend what I was seeing. Instead of ankle-deep in alley scum, I was sprawled in immense fern-like bushes.
Alright, this is fine, no need to panic yet.
There was an explanation for this. It was eluding me at that moment, but there had to be one. Like, I hadn’t woken from my little blackout in the alley and this was a dream. A fantastically realistic dream, where for the first time there was a distinctive and pungent pine scent in the air.
In a daze, I pulled myself up. Stepping over to the nearest plant, reaching out, I gripped the shrubbery. The green foliage broke off easily in my hand. It was slightly crunchy, contributing to that pine scent. I let out a short burst of hysterical laughter.
Keep it together.
The sound of strong wind, like the noise of an immense cyclone powering through the forest, had my head whipping around. Breathing shallowly, I ran through the possibilities in my head. Crazy beast, angry native, axe-wielding lunatic.
As it moved closer, I knew I had to get out of sight.
I glanced around. There was nowhere to hide.
The crashing was louder now; I was running out of time. Hopping on the spot in panic, I dived under a large-leafed plant with unusual red spiky foliage. The itching started immediately, my eyes watering as I struggled to stay quiet. Through a small gap, I caught a blur of colors. They dashed past me. Masculine laughter trailed off.
Waiting an extra moment, unable to stand the itching any longer, I wiggled out. My ribs were on fire as I dragged myself backwards from the bushy plant. What the hell was with that? I’d never felt physical pain in my dream world before.
I froze at a crunch behind me, but by the time I spun around it was too late. A heavy body crashed into me. I stifled a shriek as the impact sent both of us hurtling toward the ground. At the last moment the huge lump twisted and managed to land next to instead of on top of me.
My head was throbbing where I’d slammed it into the ground and my first attempt to open my eyes had spots dancing. I flinched as hands began a methodical investigation along my body. He was either checking for injuries or groping me. He paused, his hands resting on either side of my face. This gesture felt strangely familiar. Sanity returned in pieces and my eyes flew open. The light still burned but I ignored my tearing eyes to pound on his rock-hard chest.
“Get your hands off me. I expect to be bought dinner before I’m felt up.” I sounded snarly, but it had been a rough day so far.
As my eyes adjusted, his concerned features c
ame into focus. Blinking stupidly, I shook my head, once, and then again. The picture didn’t change. And I knew why those hands felt familiar.
Rich brown eyes examined me in a disquieting manner. The warmth of his body was soon replaced by a chill as he moved away. Which was worthy of noting; the weather was sunny and warm.
“Sorry about that. Did I hurt you?” There it was again, laying assault to every sense I possessed.
That accent.
Although, his was a little different again.
As shocking as it was to hear the potent and lilting sound, that wasn’t the craziest part. How could it be when the man of my dreams, literally, was crouching before me? Well, maybe it wasn’t so strange. This was a dream. Well ... that was my explanation, and I was sticking with it.
Seeing him in three-dimensions was … intense. I ran my eyes over his strong masculine features, short dark hair that fell in a mess across his forehead and perfect full lips. He was at least six-and-a-half-foot tall, with delicious expanses of golden tanned flesh showcased in well-worn jeans and a fitted shirt.
I was speechless.
And the eyes, those amazing eyes, fringed with incredible, and probably unappreciated, thick black lashes. Every time he blinked, the lashes cast shadows along his defined cheekbones. I bit the inside of my cheeks as I continued to unashamedly gawk. I needed the pain to distract from him. He was aesthetically beautiful but somehow still masculine. I felt extremely inadequate in the face of such perfection; it wasn’t natural.
“Sorry again. I didn’t expect anyone to be in the forest. Well, other than Lucas.” His words brushed over me soothingly.
Lucas must have been that first person, the one I had actually avoided. I attempted to pull myself together. As a distraction, I began brushing off the leaves, pulling a few strays from my braid.
“I’m fine, no harm done.” Avoiding his gaze, I couldn’t help myself. “What’s your name?” Information I’d been waiting years to know.
“Brace ... Brace Langsworth,” he answered in a relaxed manner. A smile spread across his face.
Of course he had flawless white teeth; a blemish wouldn’t dare mar his perfection. I had the uncanny feeling that he was somehow connected to the man from the alley. In small ways he reminded me of him. Something about the cadence with which he spoke and manner he held himself.
“Feel like returning the favor? Your name?” His gaze never wavered.
“I’m Abby.”
There was so much more to say. Questions flew through my mind. But he had me stunned. I’d never met any person as instantly appealing as Brace. And it wasn’t the looks, which, don’t get me wrong, were a hundred percent sex appeal, hotness. No, it was something more. Like the man from the alley, there was a comfort that shouldn’t be possible from a stranger. Shaking my head, I attempted to act like a normal person. I doubted Brace was privy to our dream familiarity.
As he stood, I couldn’t help but notice his grace and coordination. He offered me his hand. His eyes were daring me to trust him. Briefly hesitating, I placed my hand into his. He smirked as he engulfed my palm and pulled me to my feet. Expecting to be set free, I was stunned when he wrapped his right arm around my back and pulled me closer. Looking up into his perfect face, I knew there was nothing romantic in this embrace. Nope, more like kidnapper.
“What are you doing in the royal forest, Abby?”
His tone was suspicious, which in no way detracted from the appeal of his accent. Who is this guy when he’s not making dream appearances, the forest police? Wiggling impatiently, I worked to free myself. The entire time Brace scrutinized my features.
“I’m going to say this one time only, you giant behemoth. You have, like, thirty seconds to get your hands off me or we are going to have an issue.” I attempted to throw an elbow into his gut, but somehow he anticipated the move and managed to avoid it.
As I continued my pointless struggle, his expression remained stern, but his eyes had lightened slightly. Strangely, he relaxed his grip.
“Your accent is foreign. Where are you from? Surely you know it’s a crime to be without displayed papers, especially in the royal forest.”
As he locked me in his stare, I forgot to breathe. Damn those amazing eyes. His brow was wrinkled slightly. Reaching forward, he brushed a lock of hair from my face. One of those wayward curls had escaped my braid.
“Who are you?” He said it as more than a simple question.
Realizing it was either breathe or pass out, I sucked in some air.
“I don’t understand your ques–”
I didn’t get any further. Pain and darkness pressed in on me again and the disorientation was back. My vision blurred and I was pitched forward. Landing on my hands and knees, the concrete bit painfully into my palms. Where had I landed now? I opened my eyes just in time to be pulled to my feet.
“Where the hell have you been, Abby?” Lucy was furious, staring down like a tiny demon.
She was shaking and tear tracks were defined on her cheeks. Her blond curls stood up, as they did when she was stressed and had been running her hands through them. She looked like hell.
“What do you mean?” I said. “I was here, just passed out in the alley.” Delusion, thy name is Abby.
“No, Abigail, you disappeared right before my eyes. You disappeared.” She confirmed our combined insanity. “I’ve gone crazy...” She trailed off before bursting out again. “What the freaking hell happened?” She clutched my arm.
“You will not believe me.” I barely believed me and I was there.
“Try me.” Her tone was dry. “After the last twenty minutes, my mind’s wide open.”
I sank against the alley wall, Lucy slumped down beside me.
I shook my head. “It started with this wicked head spin and pain, so much pain I blacked out. And what do I see when I open my eyes – forest.”
Lucy’s expression remained calm but her eyes turbulent.
“Forest ... there are no forests near New York.”
I exhaled loudly. “I know what I think happened. And if some type of hallucinogenic gas wasn’t just released in this alley–”
“And we can’t rule that out,” Lucy interrupted.
“Then I was just transported to my dreamland,” I finished in a rush.
Silence echoed throughout the alley.
“Right,” she said. “Wait, what?”
Her eyes were wide enough that I was worried they were about to fall out of her head.
I nodded a few times. “Yep, your expression right now says it all.”
“We’re insane, Abby. This doesn’t happen in real life. People don’t disappear or transport to dream worlds.”
“Well, what’s your explanation?”
She stood and, with hands on her hips, looked around.
“We both died, dead as a doornail, and now we’re living in some type of weird alternative dimension of purgatory.”
Tears of laughter ran down my face. The shock had caught up to me. Lucy wasn’t really that funny.
Pulling myself together, I stood and attempted to straighten my clothes. As I brushed at my shoulder, three leaves drifted to the ground.
“Do you see them?” I said in barely a whisper.
“Holy mother of gold, Abigail. Are they leaves?” She turned to me in horror before clutching me close. “Tell me everything.”
I started slowly, but my pace increased as I moved through the story. “I woke in the forest. It was the same as my dreamland, but so much more real. It was tactile. I could hear, smell, and touch. More three-dimensional than any dream I have ever had. And he was there, Luce.” I winced at the painful memory. “It wasn’t exactly the first-meeting I anticipated.”
She knew precisely who I was talking about.
“You mean ... your dream-world hottie?” She stomped her foot. “This is crap. All I ever dream about is horses dressed as knights, who are riding horses into battle, and weird little worms buildin
g mud houses. But Abigail gets to have full-on man-candy fantasies – which then come to life.”
“Seriously, Luce? Let’s be grateful your dreams don’t come to life. Horses riding horses? How exactly does that work?”
“So the hottie finally has a name.”
“Yep, Brace Langsworth. And no man-candy fantasy was re-enacted. Although ... it was sweet.” My smile dimmed slightly. “And just a little confusing.”
“Disappointing, more like – if he’s as good looking as you say, then you wasted a perfect opportunity.”
And just like that I was grinning broadly again. “He was better, Luce.”
She pouted. “That’s just mean. I want one, Abbs. Get me one.”
“Oh, yes, your majesty, I’ll get right on that.” Hot damn, I wanted one too. “But, more seriously, did I mention that he has the accent too?”
She shrugged. “Everyone you meet lately seems to have this accent.”
She made a valid point.
I grabbed her hand, holding on tightly. “You want to know what I think? Something really strange is going on.”
She laughed. “Did you come up with that all on your own?”
Wrenching her arm as I bounced on my feet, I attempted to keep my voice low. “I think this place actually exists. Somewhere that’s peaceful with green plants and hot jerky guys who run you down in the forest.”
“A secret, peaceful place that has escaped this war and we need to find it immediately.”
I levelled a glare on her, before realizing she was dead serious. No sarcasm at all.
She continued speaking. “We also need to find the alley man. He said he was your watcher, and I’m going to loosely interpret that to mean guide slash taxi to dreamland.”
“Well, holy cold day in hell. I did not predict that reaction from practical old Lucy.” While she was an optimistic person, she didn’t do fantasy very well.
“Hey, I’m open-minded. I’ve believed your craziness for years. What’s one more thing?” She smiled, her expression thoughtful. “I knew how much you love your dreamland and I never said anything, but I’m secretly a little jealous. You had this whole world I could never be a part of, even if it was just in your crazy mind. But now, well, I’m going on a little bit of faith.”
“So we’re agreed: stalk this alley until the man appears again.”
She bopped her head a few times. “Agreed. And let’s call him Ralph. Alley man is not working for me.”
“Agreed.”
Ralph was not manly enough, not even close, but it would work for now.
We were both bouncing. Never for one moment had I believed my dreamland was real. But now ... well, for the first time I was excited to turn eighteen.
Chapter 3
