Sign of the Sandman

by Tom Turner

  “And we ended up in your castle—”

  “Which is lovely, by the way.”

  “We didn’t mean to intrude. We were just hoping someone could point us back toward New York.”

  Unity and Rustam stepped closer, ignoring the boy’s chatter.

  “Which one is he?” Unity asked Rustam.

  “The smaller one,” Rustam replied, dropping to his knees before Charlie.

  This caught Charlie off guard, and his mind raced a mile a minute. Why is the guy kneeling in front of me? Who is he? What is he? Is he going to hurt me?

  Rustam stared deep into Charlie’s eyes, and Charlie immediately noticed something, something different than the other warriors: Rustam’s eyes weren’t gold; they were white. Smoky white, in fact, and clouded over as if only scorched remains of their former brilliance. Charlie tried not to stare, but Rustam held his gaze.

  “Do you know me?” he asked Charlie.

  “Are you kidding?” said Plug.

  But the question had twisted Charlie’s stomach into an uneasy knot. He nodded, answering, “Yes. I do.”

  “Say what!” said Plug.

  Charlie was a little surprised by his response, too, but it was the truth. He did know Rustam, or at least he felt he did.

  “But how?” he asked Rustam, searching his memory.

  Charlie kept saying the name over and over in his head, sounding it out. Roo-staam, Roo-staam. But nothing clicked.

  “It’s not possible,” said Plug.

  Rustam placed his hand on Charlie’s shoulder.

  “There is much I need to explain,” he said.

  “Start by telling us what you did with New York!” yelled Plug with a hint of big-city attitude.

  “Yeah,” said Charlie, pulling away from Rustam. “How do we get home? My mom’s in trouble. She’s hurt. I have to help her.”

  “Your being here will help her. In time, you will help us all.”

  “Don’t listen to them, Charlie. It’s a mind trick!” said Plug.

  “Where are we?” asked Charlie. “What is this place?”

  “You are in the Dreamscape,” replied Rustam. “On the other side of dreams. Human dreams.”

  “In a place that exists to protect them,” Unity added.

  Charlie was stunned. Plug was too. His mouth hung open, and his eyes were glazed with confusion.

  “I don’t understand. You mean dreams are real?” asked Charlie, trying to make sense of what he was hearing.

  “Very real. And very powerful,” said Rustam. “Every marvel of man was first a dream.”

  “Gimmie a break,” said Plug. “Last week I dreamed I ate a turd.”

  “Your dreams are as many and varied as their purpose,” Rustam continued. “Our purpose is not to question, but to protect them from evil.”

  “This is crazy talk! It doesn’t make sense,” said Plug, getting more agitated. “They’re lying to us, Charlie.”

  Charlie didn’t know what to believe. All he knew was he wanted to get back home, back to his mom, and forget the entire day as if it was just one bad dream.

  “Come on, Plug!” he said, grabbing his friend. “We’re leaving.”

  Plug gave Rustam and Unity a dirty look as he and Charlie moved toward the door. But Unity stopped them.

  “Here we can protect you,” he said, stepping in front of Rustam to block their exit.

  Charlie thought he saw Unity sprinkle something over Plug’s head, and then over his own. It was powdery, almost like fine black sand or coal dust, and it made his nose itch. But it happened so fast Charlie wondered if he might have imagined it.

  “Protect him from what?” asked Plug. He wiggled his nose as if trying to hold back a sneeze.

  “Yeah,” said Charlie. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “You have a very powerful enemy,” said Rustam. “And you are a threat to him so long as you live.”

  “I don’t have any enemies,” said Charlie, yawning.

  “Except Joe Santiago,” added Plug, yawning as well. “Is he here, too?”

  “Your enemy is quite real and quite determined. Driven by hatred, revenge, and a desire to usher in a reign of nightmares that would destroy the world as you know it — a threat he uttered ages ago and that he will stop at nothing to carry out. He is now making good on that threat and, I sense, closer to you than any of us realize—”

  “The boys are tired from their journey,” said Unity, cutting off Rustam. “Let them rest. Then we will return and tell them everything.”

  Rustam hesitated. He seemed anxious, but he conceded.

  “Very well,” he said. “Guardians will remain posted for your protection. After you have regained your strength, I will return.”

  Rustam and Unity left, sealing the room.

  “I don’t want to rest! I want to go home!” yelled Charlie.

  “I don’t trust those guys,” said Plug through another gaping yawn. “Especially that old dude with the kung fu hair. Something ain’t right about him.”

  “Agreed,” said Charlie. “This place just gets weirder and weirder, which is exactly why we are going to get out of here before they come back. We just need to figure a way past those guardians, or whatever they’re called.”

  Charlie heard a heavy thud behind him.

  “Plug?”

  He was on the floor, out cold. And Charlie wasn’t far behind. The black dust Unity had sprinkled over Charlie settled into his eyes, and as hard as he tried, he could not fight off the sleepiness that overcame him. Charlie fell back onto his bed and drifted peacefully away into a dream.

  Rustam was perched like an eagle atop a castle turret. He gazed out over the Dreamscape, wondering where the Sandman could be, what stone he may have left unturned, and debating what — and how much — he should tell Charlie. He stood up and stretched his wings, when a burning sensation erupted from the back of his eyes, a sensation that meant only one thing. He dropped to his knees, pressed his hands to his face, and tried to absorb the burn. When he removed his hands, his eyes, once white, were now fiery pools of light, beacons peering into another place.

  CHAPTER NINE

  LIKE A NIGHTMARE, HE CAN

  TRANSFORM AND POSSESS

  New York City’s Grand Central Station bustled with rush-hour energy. Train announcements echoed through its cavernous interior as Charlie made his way to the information kiosk in the center of the main terminal.

  “Excuse me,” he asked the woman behind the counter. “Can you tell me how to get home?”

  “The same way, but in reverse,” she said. “Next!”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” replied Charlie.

  “Next!”

  Charlie was shoved aside. He watched people of all sorts and ages hurry past him. They were as varied as they were rushed but, oddly, all dressed like him, wearing backpacks and oversized hooded sweatshirts.

  As Charlie pushed through the crowd, a black feather dropped into his hand.

  Interesting, he thought.

  He looked up and spotted hundreds of black crows perched high in the rafters of the station dome. The dome swirled with the colors of a sunset sky, and billowy clouds rolled in from its edges, creating an odd sense of being both indoors and out. Just below the dome, in a row of mirrors that bordered one wall’s top edge, Charlie thought he saw Rustam’s silhouette peering down at him, but it was too far away to be sure.

  What’s going on here? he wondered.

  He was staring back at the black feather when he heard a man’s voice call out to him.

  “Charlie, help me,” it pleaded.

  The voice was weak, wounded, and familiar, yet Charlie could not quite place it.

  He forced his way toward the train platforms in the direction of the voice. As he got closer, he noticed a trail of gold foo
tprints leading to a stairwell. They were dim and fading fast.

  Could it be the man with the golden footprints?

  “Help,” the voice called out again.

  Charlie tried to locate its source, but the crowd was too thick and pushing past him. Crows began to caw. They circled the dome, as if agitated by some unseen force.

  Suddenly, someone grabbed Charlie from behind. It was his mother.

  “Mom!” he shouted, hugging her tight. He was so happy to see her. “Where have you been? I couldn’t find you.”

  She didn’t respond.

  “I’m scared, mom. I don’t know what’s happening.” He was almost shouting over the caws. “I’m trapped in some kind of dream world. I don’t know how I got here or how to get back home. I think it might have to do with those gold-eyed people: pigeon man, the crossing guard, even the school janitor!”

  His mom still didn’t react.

  “They were in my room! Don’t you remember?”

  She remained silent.

  “Plug didn’t believe me either! But then he saw them for himself. They’re real! You have to believe me!”

  Charlie glanced around and his voice lowered as a frightening thought crept up from the depths of his mind. He moved in closer to his mom.

  “And I think something’s after me,” he whispered to her. “Something bad.”

  A crow dropped dead at his feet. High above, the vaulted ceiling grew shadowy and ominous. Clouds pitched and rolled, and the station’s lights flickered just a bit. Wisps of dark vapor curled into the air, spewed from hundreds of compact makeup mirrors held by passing commuters. The vapor expanded, sucking color from everything around Charlie, everything except him. A shiver ran down his spine, causing him to tremble. His face flushed with fear, and his hands turned cold and clammy.

  One by one, more and more crows dropped around him.

  “Wake up, Charlie.”

  It was the man’s voice again!

  “Where are you?” Charlie yelled back. He was still holding his mother close.

  A young woman stopped beside them and shut her compact mirror.

  “Wake up, Charlie,” she repeated.

  More commuters passed by and whispered, “Wake up. Wake up.” Soon they circled him, and their whispers changed to pleas.

  “Wake! Wake!” they shouted louder.

  The crows’ cawing intensified too. The crowd pushed in on Charlie, and his mom was yanked from his grip. She disappeared into the throng of commuters.

  “Mom!” cried Charlie. His chest tightened with panic, and his mind spun out of control. “Mom! Where are you? Come back!”

  Crows swarmed him, flapping in a winged surge. Charlie shielded his face. He was drowning in a stormy sea of black feathers, and the shrill bird caws were like ice picks in his ears. Spots of white light popped like flash bulbs all around him. His eyes lost focus, caught between light and dark, when a final thunderous CAW startled him.

  What was that? Where am I?

  It was like time briefly stopped and then started up again. Charlie blinked through a disoriented haze, but the sight of a very real, very jagged, black dagger descending toward his chest jolted him awake quicker than a bucket of ice water. He gasped and swiftly rolled left, narrowly avoiding the fork-tongued blade as it came down hard. A split second later would have cost him his life.

  His attacker turned and drew again. It was Unity!

  “Plug, help!” screamed Charlie. Plug was still asleep on the floor. “Wake up!”

  Plug snored and mumbled, “Five more minutes—”

  “PLUG!”

  Plug’s eyes blinked open. He spotted Unity’s blade and sprung to his feet.

  “What’s he doing with a knife?” he yelled.

  “Trying to kill me!” said Charlie.

  The door kicked open, and two guardians stormed in, weapons drawn. Charlie couldn’t believe it.

  I’ve seen those weapons before!

  They were similar to the bows pigeon man and the others had back in his apartment.

  The guardians drew back on their golden bowstrings, which produced arrows of light that hummed with intensity. They were about to fire, but hesitated, spotting Unity.

  “What are you waiting for?” screamed Charlie. “Shoot him!”

  Their hesitation cost dearly. Unity blew on the fork-tongued tip of his blade. It glowed red as hot coals and then spilt in two down the center. Unity hurled each blade at the guardians, striking them in the chest. The blade’s dark power infected them, like poison from a scorpion’s sting. Their muscles went into spasm and locked in paralysis. Their skin shriveled. They vomited black sand in thick, raging heaves. The sand fell to the floor and swirled at their feet, pulling them down into a dark void. They sunk, as if into a pit of quicksand. All that remained was the sand-covered contours of their faces — entombed and frozen mid-scream.

  Charlie’s eyes connected with Unity’s, and he suddenly felt like a fawn caught in a wolf’s predatory glare.

  “You said you’d protect me!”

  Unity smirked. “Like a dream, nothing is as it seems.”

  “Really?” Charlie grabbed the bow of a fallen guardian. “How ‘bout this, jerk-wad!”

  He drew and fired. The kickback knocked him into Plug, and they tumbled. Charlie’s light arrow hit Unity point blank. It tore through him, igniting his garment and knocking him to the ground.

  “Whoa! Nice shot!” said Plug.

  But Unity picked himself up and extinguished his robe, showing Charlie and Plug his closing wound. Almost nonchalant.

  “You gotta be kidding,” said Plug. His eyes bugged out. “Not fair!”

  Unity calmly picked up his dagger and wiped the blade clean. Charlie’s legs went numb with fear. He would have collapsed if it were not for a shout that echoed in from the corridor.

  More guardians stormed the room, but in the time it took Charlie to turn, Unity was gone. A thin trail of black sand that swirled out the window was the only trace of his presence.

  The lead guardian spotted the two entombed warriors and drew his bow. “Who did this?” he shouted, aiming it at Charlie and Plug.

  “Not us! Not us!” screamed Plug. “It was the kung fu guy!”

  “Unity!” Charlie translated. “He was just here!”

  “Search the area!” the lead guardian commanded his warriors, before turning back to Charlie and saying, “Stay where you are! You’re safer here.”

  Yeah, right! thought Charlie. He had no idea whom to trust or believe. Not anymore. He inched closer to Plug and motioned toward the door. The guardians had left it open, and Charlie and Plug slipped away in the chaos. They ran from the chamber into a long hallway. But the castle was ever changing. Overlapping shadows were disorienting, and long vaulted corridors crisscrossed and stretched out in an endless labyrinth.

  “This place makes my head spin,” said Plug.

  “I know,” replied Charlie. “We’re like rats in a maze.”

  “But with no cheese at the end,” said Plug. “Man, I’d kill for a grilled ham and—”

  “Shhhh!”

  Charlie hushed Plug and pointed toward a chain of shadows that moved across the floor behind them. The sound of approaching footsteps rang in their ears.

  “Over there,” whispered Charlie, pushing Plug toward a small, dark, archway.

  The archway led to a stairwell, which descended into complete darkness. Neither of them was excited by the idea, but it was their only path of escape. They carefully made their way down the stairs. There was a solid arched door at the bottom. Etched into its face was a tree with golden leaves, but, again, there was no knob in sight.

  “What do these guys have against door knobs?” said Charlie.

  “Seriously! Turn and push! It’s not that hard!” said Plug.

 
Charlie banged on the door. It didn’t budge, although, some of the golden leaves did fall off the tree.

  “Move!” said Plug. “Let me try.”

  He rammed the door, and it disintegrated into a pile of sand. He and Charlie tumbled out of the darkness and into another chamber. Charlie quickly surveyed the room and pointed to a window on the other side.

  “It’s a way out!”

  Charlie and Plug hoisted themselves up to the window and scurried onto the ledge. They were about as high as Charlie’s fifth-story apartment; only here, there was no fire escape. Plug gulped at the large drop.

  “Great. Now what, Houdini?” he asked. “Just hang out?”

  Shafts of light swept the room and spilled from the window. Guardians were searching for them; it was only a matter of time before they were spotted on the ledge.

  “No,” said Charlie. “We’ll jump.”

  “Are you nuts?”

  Charlie pointed to the large mound of sand beneath them.

  “That pile of sand will break our fall.”

  “Or our legs!”

  “Got a better idea?”

  “Yeah. Don’t jump!”

  But the castle didn’t seem to agree. The sand ledge crumbled beneath their feet, and Charlie and Plug plummeted. As the ground approached, they braced for impact but suddenly snapped back skyward. Something had snagged them, and they were suspended mid-air, dangling upside down like two tangled trapeze artists.

  “Didn’t see that coming,” whimpered Plug. “I think I’m gonna need a new pair of shorts. But I take back everything bad I said earlier about those vines.”

  Two long strands of ivy had stretched out of the oasis and wrapped around their ankles. It hoisted the boys like a crane and dropped them into the soft sand. They tumbled head over heels like two oversized snowballs, landing at the bottom of a steep embankment. A few seconds passed before they moved.

  “Remember when I said this is like the time we got lost in Chinatown, and you said, it’s a little different?” asked Plug. He was still red-faced from the blood that rushed to his head.

  Charlie nodded, spitting out a mouthful of sand.

  “Well… it’s not. This is a lot different!” Plug jumped to his feet and grabbed Charlie by the arm, pulling him up. “But we’re in it together. So even though you got me chased by seven-foot birdmen. Made me jump off a ledge. And swallow about a ton of sand… I still got your back.”