Then a flickering of light reflecting off the water in her peripheral vision caught her attention. It certainly wasn’t any kind of starlight, it was blazing orange and dancing. Curious, she broke her reverie and tilted her head up to look for a source.
She was floating in a small lake and in the middle of the lake was a small island she recognized instantly. Also familiar was the pyramid-like building with its steep thatched roof, surrounded by several varieties of beautiful flowers, sitting mysteriously in the middle of the small island. Shining through the doorways that provided entrance to the pyramid was a strong firelight, like torches burning, only deep inside she knew it wasn’t torches that created it.
What should have been a lovely scene only served to strike fear into her heart. To Sophie, this place previously had only been an interesting distraction during a stressful period in her life, but it had a much deeper effect on Jacob, who felt as if it were the center of some great evil, and a threat to them. An evil she had never seen and only seemed to see now in her dreams, surely due to the influence of Jacob and the horrible impact it all had on her life. Soon to be an impact to her baby’s life as well, who would be growing up without her father. What should have been something looked back on as no more than a campfire story that scared her as a child, was now something bigger and seemed to be woven into her subconscious.
It was because of this memory of Jacob’s demons she knew it wasn’t really torches lighting the way inside the pyramid. Jacob’s demon was the source. He with the fiery hair, large muscular body, and face of a swirling dark vortex. She never looked long on Its face. There was no reason to, as there were no intentions displayed there or emotions to be seen. Its intention wasn’t expressed through eyes, yet it poured out from it all the same. It wanted her. And even that wasn’t entirely true, she didn’t think. What it really wanted was her baby. Why, she couldn’t imagine, and how she knew she, she couldn’t say. What she did know was it would never happen. Even in her dreams she wouldn’t let that come to pass.
Yet even as she had the thought, she realized she was drifting ever closer toward the island, and toward Him. It. Almost as if the lake itself obeyed His commands and had no concern for her will. It just kept bringing her closer and closer, until soon she was feet from shore and no longer floating, but lying on the ground in inches of water. There was no point remaining, she thought. Might as well follow this dream through and see if there were any answers hidden there for her to find.
Struggling with her ample belly, which seemed to be the same size in the dream as in real life, she made her way on to her side, then slowly to her feet and stood facing the pyramid. She was naked, making her feel completely vulnerable, but she always seemed to be naked in the presence of the Thing. It was as if It were constructing the dream instead of her own mind and it had no interest in her being clothed.
Holding her stomach protectively with both hands she made her way across the soft sand and to the base of the steps leading up to the stone doorway. The light inside was strong, yet all she could see from the sharp angle looking up was the upper parts of the opposite wall and the hints of the thatch roof that rose steeply into darkness. No sign of Him yet, and she already knew what to expect inside there. She had been there several times before, both in real life and in her dreams. Inside were stone walls, each wall with a simple wood table for flowers, paintings adorning the walls she had never bothered to look at close enough to see in any detail, and in the middle a stone slab like an altar with a long white cloth hanging down over it. And somewhere inside, surely, was Him.
She summoned her courage to enter, which wasn’t as hard as she would have expected, likely due to the fact she didn’t feel it was truly her choice at all, and began climbing the stone steps. Once she reached the top she paused, bracing herself for a confrontation, hoping it didn’t end up with her lying on the slab and Him forcing Himself between her legs again. However, as she stepped through the doorway she didn’t see Him at all, only two torches mounted high up on two of the walls, lighting up the room in their soft, dancing light. She let out a huge sigh of relief, nearly shedding tears of joy, and gave a silent thank you to her subconscious mind.
It struck her then how interesting it was that these dreams seemed so lucid. She felt like it was real life and the choices she was making were conscious ones made with awareness, unlike normal dreams where everything just seemed to happen and you sometimes recalled it later. This was something different, better than a memory even. She could even feel the scrape of rough stone and the fine grit of powdery dirt on the soft pads of her feet as she walked. Whatever it was, it resulted in a greater feeling of suspense, as if her actions weren’t meaningless but would result in something tangible. If she were in control, she thought it would be a good idea if she made smart decisions.
She decided to investigate this dream before it ended. Moving forward, she edged around the white, hanging cloth hiding the altar, nervous about what might be lying upon it. There was nothing there. Puzzled, she wondered what the purpose of this dream was and felt determined to keep searching for it. Quietly she moved toward the door opposite the one she entered and peeked her head though to survey the other side of the little island. Nothing there but the white ring of beach and glassy edge of the lake.
Now her puzzlement was turning to frustration. She moved back in and stood next to the altar, scanning the floor and tables for clues and still coming up empty handed.
“What is the point of all this?” she shouted to the empty room. “Why am I here?”
As if to respond the torches flared up, lighting the chamber more dramatically and bringing to her attention what she should have already focused on. The paintings all around the walls of the room. Moving toward the wall in front of her she began to look at the pictures more closely. They appeared as if they were drawn on by crude hands, like children’s, and were faded with age.
After a few minutes of trying to piece a meaning together the pictures began to take shape in her mind, creating a story of sorts. There were several painted figures that looked like villagers, dark skinned, Fijians obviously. Many of these pictures depicted them in the act of hunting and fishing. It seemed to her that the people in the pictures were very successful. Life appeared to be good. Some drawings were more intimate in nature, with depictions of men and women coupling together. Then, ever more interesting, was a picture of what appeared to be the very structure she was now standing in, with seven men building it up.
Sophie, entirely enthralled now, moved slowly along the wall, following along with the story. One whole section of the wall appeared to focus completely on two figures, a woman and a child. The woman was shown offering food to the child in one drawing. In another she was offering her breast. In another, placing things at the child’s feet, what could have been their versions of toys. Throughout those scenes the child remained sitting upon the ground, head downcast, ignoring all that was offered, until the last thing came up. What looked like a lamp.
When the lamp was set before the child he looked to have a large smile on his face and following that there were several pictures of the child eating and playing, all while carrying the lamp in his hands. This struck Sophie as important somehow, yet it made no sense to her. What did this child with his lamp have to do with anything? She kept ‘reading’ the story, moving slowly around the room, hoping to interpret an answer.
Things seemed to be going well for the child. The depictions of him continued much the same except that time must have been passing because the child was getting bigger and bigger, until finally he was a very large, powerful man. Then something terrible appeared to happen. There was a photo of the man with the lamp broken in two pieces at his feet. How it was broken didn’t seem to be indicated, but the result was horrible. The man with the broken lamp was very angry, being drawn with his arms raised, teeth bared, and lightning casting down around him. The villagers were now more prominent in the drawings, with several shown standing in a circle outsi
de of the lightning strikes, arms covering their heads.
The next scene seemed very significant. The woman, it looked to be the same as the one who gave him the lamp in the first place, just older with grey hair and somewhat stooped, appeared to the large man with another gift. This one looked to be a crown made of fire. She placed the crown atop the large man’s head and the scenes change drastically again, for the better. Now there was sun shining, children playing, and more fishing. The man with the crown of fire is no longer so fierce and frightful. This continued for several feet along the wall, as if much time was passing. As the story moved forward, the man with the fiery crown appeared to grow, as if getting increasingly powerful. There were pictures of the villagers all bringing food, fish, and assorted items to the large man, who was now depicted as living in the pyramid where she was standing. It seemed obvious to her the people who once lived here worshipped this figure.
Then came another drastic change. There was a large boat and pictures of white men with the villagers down along the beach. It looked as though they were friendly, with gifts being exchanged. Then the boats were gone, and something bad appeared to have happened. The villagers appeared to be dying, with many pictures showing them with food coming out of their mouths. Vomiting, she assumed. The story continued to the next wall and she glided over quickly to continue, enchanted by seeing this history being played out before her. The remaining villagers now were carrying the ones who were laying down and taking them to several dark holes in the mountain. The caves! Sophie recalled the cave her and Jacob stayed in and remembered how Jacob didn’t want her trying to go back any further in past where they slept, which she didn’t really think about at the time as it was so dark anyway, but now she suspected he must have known. In any case, the villagers appeared to take their dead to the caves, then another big change occurred. The villages were on boats now and leaving the island. There were several pictures of boats full of people, sailing off to some new home.
But not all of them made it. In some of the drawings were pictures of massacre. Red splotches surrounded by severed limbs and blue teardrops. Several teardrops, patterned into a large pool, and from the pool emanated a white light. Sophie peered at the light with great interest. It struck a nerve with her somehow, as if there were a memory inside her that was buried. The scenes didn’t stop there, though. She continued.
Now the creature with the fiery hair appeared less fierce than before. He was smaller in stature and the flames upon his head seemed smaller as well. There were but a few villagers remaining with him on the island, only the most devoted, she supposed. Those who weren’t afraid of the sickness or still devout enough to believe He could protect them from it.
One of those who stayed was a woman. Sophie watched the pictures of her play out with a growing feeling of disquiet. He and this woman were shown coupling upon the altar, she lying on her back with her legs dangling over the end of the slab and he standing at the foot, between her legs. Just as it had been with her, in her dreams. Then a picture came that made Sophie catch her breath. The woman was pregnant, belly very large as she stood next to Him, and the remaining villagers appeared to be honoring her with food and gifts just as they did the Other. But something must have gone wrong then, the woman was shown to be dead, lying once again on the altar but this time it was red, with what she assumed was a lot of blood. At the altar He was there, holding a new child also surrounded by the color red for blood, and He was angry.
At this point, filled with a growing sense of foreboding, Sophie stopped the tour of the island’s history and paused to collect herself. The woman’s pregnancy was not something she was prepared for, and being pregnant herself, along with the dreams she had recently with Him forcing Himself upon her, hit just a little too close to home. She looked over at the last wall and noted about one-third of it was covered in pictures, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to see them anymore.
“It’s just a dream, Sophie girl, no reason not to look.”
Walking slowly, she made her way to the last wall to see where this dream story was going, hoping, if there was a message here, she would recognize it. The last scenes turned out to be familiar ones to her. There was a drawing of a white man and woman on the island, though not together. The white man was standing by a cave, surrounded by tall, black shadows. The next scene was the white woman, laying on the altar. He was there, just like in her dream, standing naked at the foot of the altar. Then next, the white man and woman are together, embracing in the waters of the lake. Next, the white woman is obviously pregnant, the bubble of her belly protruding out.
Sophie looked back over the scenes again, frantically running her eyes from beginning to end. The dread inside her was shifting to something more, something like pure terror, and she quickly covered her face with both hands, hoping to stifle the scream she felt welling up from her core before it could be unleashed.
“It can’t be true, it’s just a dream! It can’t be true, it’s just a dream! It’s just a DREAM!”
In response came a low, rumbling laugh that echoed all around her and she felt a sudden coldness in her belly.
Sophie’s eyes snapped open but all she saw was darkness. A panic bubble formed up and expanded inside her. She expected at any moment to feel strong hands clutch her and hold her down. Then she realized the darkness wasn’t in her dream. Removing her cupped hands from over her eyes, she blinked against the light, seeing the vague blur of whiteness slowly crystallize into the familiar walls and décor of her bathroom. Blue and yellow towels on the rack, a wood shelf with three candles, her electric toothbrush on its stand next to the sink. She was home.
The bathwater had gone completely cold, making her wonder just how long she had slept. The dream seemed to last for hours but most dreams seemed to last a long time and she had once heard the average dream lasted only a few minutes.
She pulled the plug from the drain and managed to get herself up and out of the tub, which was no easy task. Donning her robe, she began to put up her hair but her mind wasn’t on what she was doing. It was the dream she was thinking about, wondering how much was made up in her imagination and how much might be true. The whole thing played out like a history lesson, so she supposed she could do some digging to see if she could find out what happened, if anything, in the island’s past. Or was that crazy, she wondered? Was it crazy to follow up on a dream? To think there was a chance some of it might be real? Maybe it was, but if it eased her mind then she didn’t see how it would harm anything.
As these thoughts were occupying her mind she heard the doorbell ring, followed by a loud knock. Before she could even exit the bathroom, there was a follow-up knock. Must be Thomas, who wasn’t known for his patience, but it couldn’t be time for him yet, she thought.
She walked down the hallway, through the living room, and approached the front entrance. Looking through the peephole she saw her big brother standing on the front stoop, looking around as if he were expecting to be tailed. Thomas was a handsome man, with steely blue eyes, dark hair, and a square jaw that made him look imposing. He was tall, a few inches over six feet, like Jacob, but broader across the shoulders than Jacob had been. Thomas had been the great deterrent to horny teenage boys when she was a girl. He could be very soft and gentle when he wanted to be, as he always was with her, but give him the slightest reason not to be and he flipped a switch and became Terrible Tommy. Looking at him now, she thought Terrible Tommy might be ready to make an appearance. She opened the door quickly.
“Thomas, you’re early.” She stepped to the side to allow him in.
“Early, Sophie? It’s …” he looked down at his watch, “now twelve thirteen. I was here right at noon, like you asked. When you didn’t answer I walked around a bit, thinking you might be in the restroom. Then when I returned and you didn’t answer again, I considered breaking the door down. I was worried.” He looked down at her enormous tummy and his whole demeanor softened. “Sophie girl, look at you. My God. May I?” He was holding
his hand out in front of her stomach, hovering and waiting for permission before he touched it.
“Of course,” she said, smiling warmly. Despite the distance between them, the distance she had kept between them, seeing his reaction to her unborn child deeply moved her and she was almost overcome with hormonal emotion. Having your pregnant belly groped and patted was a situation most women of late term had to deal with, many times from people who took the liberty without even a look of askance. She thought it was cute her brother would be so hesitant when so many others were so forward.
Thomas set down a bag of food and began to rub her stomach slowly, pausing here and there to wait for movement before continuing to the next spot. After about thirty-seconds of this the baby managed a strong kick and Thomas nearly jumped.
“He kicked! Sophie, did you feel it? He kicked my hand.” His face made him look very much like a child at that moment.
With that one infant assault he was truly hooked, going right down on his knees in front of her and placing an ear against her stomach, never losing the big dopey smile and throwing in an occasional “ooh” and “ahhh”. After a couple minutes of this he stood, beamed at her, and throwing caution to the wind, wrapped her up in a giant bearhug.
Sophie accepted happily, all the enmity and awkwardness of the last several months forgotten. Having Thomas in front of her again, commenting on her baby, and just being brotherly, was like a healing elixir for a horrible sickness she didn’t realize had spread so out of control.
Cave of Bones (Dark Island Series Book 2) Page 2
