~~~
“Mmmmmph.” Nathan fought the bedclothes back from his head as he awoke with a violent start upwards. He looked down and saw he was still dressed in his clothes, and from the window he could see the glow of daylight now penetrating the blinds.
“Yeech.” He looked own at his clothes again and realised why they were sticking to him. He was drenched in sweat. He threw the remaining bedclothes off, not noticing the sketches scattering as he did so, and went straight to the shower, his head spinning.
Towelling his hair dry in front of the mirror, Nathan leaned in to look at his red-rimmed eyes. What was going on? A boy in a dream-that-wasn’t-a-dream. Pictures that he kept drawing over and over. The connection with the girl in his class and another world that needed her to save them, which struck him as odd since she didn’t seem the heroic type.
“This is really and truly weird.” He emphasised the last word as if it would help restore normality, but it didn’t. He felt an overwhelming urge to find Sarina and help the boy—to help the dying men—but he didn’t have a clue whether this was possible.
“Or even real,” he said to the mirror.
He stopped towelling, straightened and looked at himself. “Nathan Goldberg,” he said to his reflection, “remember curiosity is your friend.”
Maybe it really was possible to enter another world from a dream. After all, science was still uncovering what was really possible with the human mind. He wondered what his great-great-grandfather would have thought. From the stories he had heard passed down, the Einstein-Rosen Bridge came out of an argument with Einstein, where the cocky young Nathan Rosen had pointed out problems with Einstein’s theories. Einstein told him to prove it or shut up. So he did. And together they discovered the ‘wormhole’.
Nathan thought they probably didn’t realise how many awful TV shows and movies would misuse the idea of ‘the wormhole’. As far as he knew, if you fell into a wormhole, you could definitely travel to another universe. But you’d come out in tiny little bits.
He pulled himself together. Who knows? Maybe he could be like his crazy great-great-grandfather, and discover ‘the dream portal’?
People would be writing about him for years. He grinned and pointed to himself in the mirror. “Don’t we owe it to science to try?”
And having given himself that lecture, he nodded at his reflection, feeling much more like the old Nathan.
The first step would be to find Sarina. He had to admit, he thought as he dressed for school, he may have been horribly wrong about her after all.
But first he had to find her. All he needed was a few uninterrupted minutes at his Dad’s computer. And a little time absent from school.
~ 13 ~
Drums
Makthryg stood in silence at the top of the hill waiting for the men to report.
The units returned one-by-one and the men removed their masks, while each unit leader reported to the commander.
“Hursk.” Makthryg beckoned the man over. “What is our progress?”
The man walked over to Makthryg and bowed. “Sire, almost all the men are now returned, but—”
“But what?”
The commander looked up at Makthryg. “Sire, one of the scouts has reported seeing a boy fleeing into the forest.” The man waited.
Makthryg glared at the man and spoke through gritted teeth. “Assemble a search unit.”
The man waited to be dismissed.
“NOW!” Makthryg shouted, pointing to the rest of the men, “before he escapes us!”
“Yes, your Greatness.” The man bowed several times rapidly in succession before running back to the main group, calling for men as he arrived.
“Valkrog?”
“Yes, my Lord?” The bird-man appeared at Makthryg’s side.
“The boy has not only escaped the fortress, but he may also have escaped the gas.” Makthryg spoke the words slowly, containing his anger. “I need your special skills to help the search party find him.”
“Yes, my Lord. I will assemble some of my best men to aid the party,”—he cleared his throat—“and to ensure his capture.” He emphasised the last word.
Makthryg nodded in satisfaction at the bird-man’s words.
“Make sure you do.” He turned to look down the hill, straining to see in the distance, before looking back at Valkrog. “How long has it been since we released the gas?”
Valkrog motioned and a man appeared from behind him. “Time elapsed?” the bird-man said.
The man pulled out a round, brass-coloured device from a bag and flipped it open. He looked back up at Valkrog. “Approximately forty minutes sir.”
Valkrog waved him away. The man bowed and moved away backwards.
“Your Greatness, if the wind calculations are correct, this should mean the gas has taken effect and they will be unconscious for approximately six hours. We will be able to take the township with no resistance.” The creature flexed his talons.
“Good,” Makthryg said. “Send the rest of the men to the township, save those you have chosen for the search party. Arm them with crossbows in case there are any still awake. They will need to wear masks again—the search party also. Have them carry the unconscious men into one building and lock it up. Station guards inside and out.” He stared into the distance. “Perhaps if the boy won’t reveal himself to the search party we can persuade him by using the men as hostages.”
“Good thinking, my Lord,” the creature hesitated, rubbing his injured shoulder. “Your Greatness … have you yet had any thought about our best defence against the Orange Witch?”
Makthryg looked at Valkrog, surprised. “Why, Valkrog, do I detect fear?” He curled his mouth into a sneer. “Our best defence is to attack. Once we have the Xtrium, they will have no defence, only a new world.”
He beckoned another man over. “You.”
“Yes, Sire?” the man replied, immediately diverting his path and standing to attention in front of Makthryg.
“Make certain the search party,” Makthryg pointed to the separate unit of men being assembled by the shaved-head commander, “is well equipped with beating sticks, nets and drums.” He looked at Valkrog as the man was dispatched. “The boy might not be able to hear, but he will feel the sticks beating the ground and the air vibrating with the war drums. His own fear will reveal him to us. We are close now, Valkrog. Very close. The boy will lead us to the Xtrium, he will have no choice.”
They looked down the slopes towards the forest and watched the army move off in the direction of the township, every tenth man holding a brightly burning flare. Over to the side, the search party waited, the commander looking directly at the black sorcerer, awaiting the order to move.
Makthryg signalled him with a flick of his finger. The man turned to his men and gave his own signal.
The war drums began their threatening beat as the men started to march.
~~~
Paolo hit the water hard, diving into the blackness from the edge of the grassy bank. He surfaced, took another huge lungful of air, then swam as hard as he could towards the other side. When he could stay underwater no more and his lungs were bursting, he rose slowly to the surface, and edged his mouth and nose above the top of the water. He floated on his back and took deep lungfuls of air.
When he was sure any evidence of splashing and ripples from his swimming had faded, he eased his head above the surface so as to not cause more disturbance, his feet treading rhythmically to hold him up in the cold water.
Across the top of the lake, he saw a faint distortion in the air. Puzzled, he turned around in the water, looking in all directions, but the distorted blackness, barely obvious, was only visible in the one direction. Then with a feeling of horror, Paolo realised what the distortion must be.
The lake, being on slightly lower ground than the township, would be one of the final resting places of the more dense body of air containing the lethal gas, and it was slowly heading directly towards Paolo.
H
e took another huge gulp of air, grateful to Andreas for the swimming training when he was young, and swam underwater to the other side of the lake, and into the reeds, where he could touch his feet lightly on the bottom.
Paolo broke off a large reed, quickly put one end in his mouth and submerged himself until the top part of the reed was protruding a little above the surface of the water, looking to all the world as if it were just a reed.
Maybe he could survive the noxious effects of the gas and remain in hiding until he was sure he had escaped detection. Just maybe.
If he judged correctly, when the gas reached him he’d be able to take one more deep breath and wait for it to pass. And hope for fresh air on the other side.
His survival was depending on him holding on minute-by-minute. After that, who knows. It was a matter of if. If he could summon Sarina—if he was able to raise the alarm—and if anyone was left to help.
If, if … if …
He gripped the reed tube firmly with his mouth and settled down in the cold water, shivering.
~ 14 ~
Rescue
Nathan picked up his skateboard from the hall and was on his way to the front door when his mother called out.
“Nathan, you’re off early to school this morning. More experiments today are there?”
“Ah, yes Mum,” Nathan said, “I thought I’d get a head start and do some research.” Well that wasn’t a lie was it? He really did need to hurry, he had no idea how much time Paolo had, and let’s face it, Sarina was probably on the other side of town by now and he still had to find out exactly where this Frenchstone place was.
His brain was still whirling from putting it all together. This would surely be the real test. If Sarina really did have the key to understanding the dreams, the Paolo boy and the weird bird-creature, then he might come through all this with his marbles intact.
But if even half of it was true, then there was some mighty bizarre stuff going down.
“Bye Mum, Bye Dad!” he yelled, as he let himself out of the door, threw the skateboard down and tore off down the road, where he rounded the corner and stopped. He looked around, picked up his board and turned left into an alleyway, ran to the end with the board tucked under his arm and turned left again. He ran another few seconds, then jumped over a hedge and into a vacant garden, where he sat breathing hard, trying not to make a noise and hoping that no-one had noticed him.
After a few minutes, he looked at his watch. 7:50am. They should be leaving just about now. He looked over at the other end of the overgrown lot and decided to crawl to a point where he could see the road through the weeds.
He shimmied over on his stomach, the same way he’d seen commandos do in the movies. He wondered if they all had grazed knees afterwards too. He eased himself up, parted the wild hedge branches and looked out.
Just in time to see his parents drive past on their way to work.
He waited for the car to disappear around the corner and pushed the hedge aside and leapt out onto the pavement, pulling his skateboard after him.
“My my, young man, you are in a bad way, what happened, are you alright?”
An old woman peered at him through thick glasses, shopping bag in hand. “You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards.”
“Yes, well that’s exactly—” Nathan was about to confirm that was exactly what had happened, but realised it would require far too much explanation. “Er, exactly what it must look like. Actually, I uh,” he thrust his hand into his bag, desperate for something trivial to extricate himself from a lengthy conversation that might attract the attention of nosey neighbours. His fingers closed around something—ah yes, that would do nicely.
“Er yes, actually I ah dropped my apple.” He brandished the apple in front of the old woman’s glasses so she could see it, “and I had to ah, dive through that hedge,” he gestured into the vacant lot using the apple as a blunt pointer, “to retrieve it.” Then, with a genius flash of inspiration he held up the apple. “And it’s all dirty and damaged and I need to dash back home and grab another. Bye!” He ran off waving the apple at the woman.
The old woman continued her shuffle to the shops, shaking her head. “Youngsters. Always in a hurry. At least he’s eating fruit. Grow up tall and strong, just like me he will.”
Back at the front gate to his house, Nathan looked around, decided that the coast was clear, and snuck back into the front garden.
He dropped down below the height of the wooden fence and walked in a low crouch up to the front door, where he fished for his key in his bag and let himself in.
Closing the front door behind him, he leaned against it and breathed a sigh of relief. Sneaking around like this didn’t seem quite right, but there was another world to save. He ran upstairs to the family office and booted up his father’s computer and while he waited for it to come to life, he wondered about Sarina. He’d been pretty mean to her. Then again when she saw how supremely clever his rescue plan was, she’d forgive him, he was sure.
Now it was time to get his brilliant mind to work and find out where this Frenchstone place was.
A few minutes later, he had all he needed. Georgia was right. A quick map search for Frenchstone had revealed it was actually only a couple of blocks away from the school. A simple matter of rocking up to the reception and asking to see her, then—
Well that was a point. Then what? Would he just walk out of there with her? How was he going to make his fiendishly clever rescue plan work?
He scratched his head.
Maths. That’s right. She was there to fix her maths problems. So he’d take her a personal note from her old maths tutor. They’d never know if she had one or not. That would work. He scribbled a few words on a piece of paper and stuffed it into an envelope from his father’s desk. He’d work out the rest of the plan on the way.
In case anyone asked, he grabbed another apple from the fruit bowl in the hall on the way out and jumped on his skateboard. He took a slightly longer route that allowed him to bypass school, since he really didn’t need any more Sawyer gang delays, and he skated to a halt outside a dingy grey set of buildings set back from a nondescript car park.
A tatty sign confirmed he was in the right spot. Written in faded black letters was: “Frenchstone Remedial Centre For Special Needs. We Dare To Care.”
Looking at the state of the building and the sign, it didn’t look as if anyone really cared at all. He hid the skateboard behind a fence in a neighbouring building and walked up a small set of concrete steps and into the reception area.
Inside was worse than outside. Dimly lit and grey, it looked like this place hadn’t seen any fresh paint for years.
He walked up to the reception desk and stood there waiting. A pallid, grey-haired woman behind the counter was clipping some papers together and scowling at them. She looked up at Nathan and scowled. “Yes?” she said, in a grating voice.
He realised that the scowl was permanent.
“Ah yes, I’m here with a note for Sarina Metcalfe? I believe she was enrolled yesterday?”
“What kind of note?” scowl-face said, suspicious.
“Um, it’s a private note from her old maths tutor. He asked me to drop it off to her. I mean deliver it in person. It’s important.” He tried to sound authoritative, but already he could see it wasn’t working out the way it had in his head earlier.
“Name?” She raised one eyebrow.
“Nathan Goldberg. Why do you need my name?”
“Not your name. The tutor.” She drummed her fingers on the counter and waited for a response.
Oops. He really needed to put more effort into his plans. What name should he use for the tutor?
“Professor Harrison,” he said, confident he had the plan back on track.
“Hmmm,” scowl-face squinted at him, “that interfering busy-body? Him and his special mind-power projects—he’s got no business poking around in here.”
Nathan realised his plan was quickly g
oing from bad to worse and tried to bluster his way through. “Ah, well, I’m just the messenger you see, I don’t know about that stuff, all he asked me to do was drop the note in. To her. Personally. Anyway, where is she and I’ll get it over and done with and won’t bother you again?” He made as if to walk into the school and waited for her response, but she just looked at him. Scowling of course.
“Won’t do you no good going in there.”
Cripes. This was like pulling teeth.
“Why’s that?” He put on his best jaunty look.
“She’s not here. Was enrolled, but didn’t show up. Still waiting for the paperwork. Who did you say you were again? Nigel Godburn was it?” She picked up a pen. “I’ll make a note of your request,” and she looked down and wrote some lengthy notes in a log book, then looked back up. “What was the note in regards—” but Nathan was gone. She scowled at the doors and went back to her papers.
Outside the grey building he retrieved his skateboard and skated away aimlessly, caught in his thoughts. What a giant waste of time. And he was still no closer to Sarina and what’s more, he now had no idea where she was. He glanced down at his hand, looking at the precisely drawn image of a bird-like man.
The stark image made him more determined to see this through, even though it would be simpler to forget the whole thing. But he was convinced that it was much more than a dream and that Paolo and the townsmen were real. And in danger. And to tell the truth, the scientist in him was curious about how this was even physically possible. He’d make his great-great grandfather proud. Maybe he would have something named after him too? How about ‘The Goldberg Dream Rift Continuum’?
He was grinning at the thought and looking down at his hand, when he crashed right into Davo.
“Ooops, sorry. Oh. You.” Nathan couldn’t believe his bad luck. And his second crash into an unwanted person in two days. He’d deliberately skated around the school specifically to avoid any possibility of encountering the Sawyer gang and now he’d managed to crash slap-bang into the gang leader, who was dusting himself off and glaring at Nathan.
The Dreamer Chronicles Trilogy Boxed Set Vol I - III: A Sci-Fi Parallel Universe Adventure (The Dreamer Chronicles - Science Fiction For Kids And Adults) Page 12
