Awake Asleep Dreaming Dead

by John Siwicki

  Tom knocked on Lori’s door, then he heard her say, Door’s open. Come in.

  He poked his head in the door. Hey, not afraid? he said. Shouldn’t you lock the door.

  It wouldn’t stop him, she said.

  Anything missing?

  No, nothing’s missing.

  Tom sat on the edge of the bed watching Lori pick up the rest of her things, occasionally their eyes meeting. She could tell he wanted to say or ask something, then Tom declared, I need your help.

  My help? she asked. With what?

  You know what I’m talking about, Tom said. Stop acting naïve. Time is running out.

  Why should I? You didn’t help me.

  I couldn’t! I was tied up, remember? Holiday left Rogers and me for dead. What did he do to you?

  You know what he did.

  Yes, and I’m sorry. You like Sam, right?

  Yes, I do.

  Then, help me.

  There was a long pause. How? Lori asked.

  Do you know where Holiday is now?

  Yes.

  Tell me more about him.

  Ask me. What do you want to know?

  Is he nearby?

  Yes.

  Will he come here tonight?

  Yes.

  Why?

  He’s playing cat and mouse.

  Which one is he, Tom asked, the cat, or the mouse?

  Both, it’s the game he likes.

  Why play the game?

  I don’t know.

  What time will he come?

  Not sure, but soon. You won’t see him. He’ll be here, but you won’t know it. It’s going to happen fast. I’ll try to leave some bread crumbs for you to follow.

  Will I see you again?

  There’s always a chance, but I can’t see that far ahead.

  I’ve missed you, Tom said.

  And I’ve missed you, Lori replied.

  I’m going to help Sam, Tom said. He’s not getting him.

  After a sharp and quick rap on the door, Sam opened it, and walked in the room. Okay, here?

  Fine, Lori said. After a moment she asked, How about you? Any of your gear missing?

  Don’t think so. It’s bizarre, Sam said. Why would Holiday go through the trouble of breaking into our hotel rooms, rummaging through everything, and not take anything?

  Maybe he took something so obscure you haven’t noticed, yet, Lori said, something that will turn out to be vital for him—or you.

  Are you staying in this room tonight, or with us next door? Sam asked.

  I’ll stay in here, she said. I don’t want to be a bother, and besides you’ve paid for the room. You’re right next door if I need help.

  You keep Lori company while I go for a walk, Tom said. I’ll be right back.

  Watch yourself, Tom. Don’t stray too far like last time. We need you.

  I worry about the old guy, Sam said, after Tom left the room. He sometimes gets into trouble, and seems to forget what he’s doing.

  He wants to help you, Sam, Lori said.

  He told me the same thing after I found him standing by the tree, but how can he help me?

  He’ll tell you when he gets back.

  When he gets back, Sam said, hesitation in his voice. Back from where? Where’s he going? Who’s he meeting?

  He’ll tell you later.

  Well, we’ve got some time. What are we going to do until then?

  She looked at him, smiled, and sat on the bed.

  You’re coming along tomorrow?

  Yes, tomorrow, that’s right, the pictures, of course.

  You seem to be getting along well with Tom?

  He’s nice.

  Sometimes you guys talk like you’re old friends, or related, Sam said.

  He reminds me of someone, Lori said. How long have you known, him?

  To tell the truth, only a couple of days, Sam said. I picked him up on the highway. He was standing on top of a hill next to a big oak tree, looking lost, so I picked him up, and gave him a ride. I thought I’d drop him off at the first town we came to, but as it turned out he’s still with me.

  A rap on the door broke the conversation. Tom, Sam said. He walked over and looked through the eye hole of the door, and turned toward Lori. Yeah, it’s the old goat. Well did you see anything interesting on your jaunt? Sam asked as he opened the door.

  No, Tom said. Everything’s fine. Quiet, nothing.

  What were you looking for anyway, or trying to find?

  Just checking if Holiday was lurking about, Tom said.

  Is there something going on that I don’t know? I seem to be the in the dark about a few things, and Lori mentioned that you wanted to talk to me about something, so I’m all ears. What do I need to know?

  There are things you don’t see, Sam.

  What things?

  Tom sat in the chair near the door, Lori was on the bed, then she stood, and went into the bathroom. It was quiet. Sam and Tom stared at each other, then Sam stood, switched on the TV, grabbed the remote and flipped through the channels. He looked at Tom, and said, Are you going to tell me or not?

  You won’t believe it.

  Believe what, and, and why not? For crying out loud, tell me!

  It’s so fantastic you’ll never believe me. It’s not how people think, not how people logically reason, and consider circumstances.

  Give it a shot. I’m open minded.

  Okay, Holiday is coming tonight to get you, and we can’t do anything about it.

  What? Why is that?

  How about this, Holiday knows every move we make, he sees us on a board, like chess, and he’s creating the circumstances for the outcome he wants. Lori knows what Holiday’s doing from her journal.

  What? Sam said. He knows what we’re doing? Lori knows what he’s doing. It’s written in her diary? How do you know all of this?

  Not only what we’ve got on our mind, but what we’re planning.

  There has to be a way to stop him, he’s human, right? Lori can stay with us in our room, then we’ll hear him if he comes.

  No, she can’t, Tom said. If she stays with us we’ve no chance at all.

  No chance at all, Sam said. No chance of what . . . getting him?

  No chance of helping you.

  You keep saying helping you, Sam said. Why help me, and how?

  To stay alive.

  Stay alive? I am alive! What the hell are you talking about?

  You won’t believe me. It’s so far off center, and wild, you just won’t—

  Try making me believe, Sam said, cutting off Tom, because I’m lost and confused. You’re not making sense, tell me again.

  Remember the cat? Well, he was with me before you saw him on the road, Tom said. He made you crash.

  What? With you? I drove the car out of the ditch, and got back on the road. It was just a close call.

  That’s what you think. Remember anything else?

  I remember running images through my mind of what would have happened if the car had flipped over, but that didn’t happen. I didn’t drive off a cliff or crash. I turned off the engine, the music, looked around, and watched the cat run away into the trees. I rested my head on the steering wheel, and thanked God for letting me live. I got out of the car, and checked it, emailed Esther, then picked you up. That’s what I remember.

  That’s right! Tom said trying to convince Sam, Where did I come from? Why was I standing on top of that hill by the oak tree? Have any idea?

  I don’t know. I figured you were an old coot who wanted to end it all, because you were depressed, tired of life, and drained. Looking gloomy about getting old.

  Do you want to get old, Sam?

  What?

  Maybe the car crashed, you were injured, and thought you were going die, Tom said. What would happen, then?

  Now, this is crazy, you old fart, Sam said, and had tension in his voice as he recalled what had happened that morning when he tried to avoid hitting the cat.

  Lori, say something, S
am said. What’s happening?

  Holiday’s coming tonight, Sam, and there’s nothing you or anyone can do about it. He wants you!

  Why? Why me?

  We’re going to buy you more time, Tom said.

  Buy me more time? What do you mean?

  So you can think about what you want to do. Stay here, or go back.

  Go back where?

  To what people call the real world, but it’s going to be painful, Lori said.

  Images of the accident flashed in Sam’s mind. Blurred stop-frame action, missing pieces of a puzzle he could not clearly put together flashed in his mind. He closed his eyes, and as hard as he tried putting it in logical order, couldn’t. Everything was hazy, vague and distorted. He stood, walked to the window, looked out at the parking lot staring, solemn, then turned toward Tom and Lori with a sober look as though he were in front of a firing squad, gun barrels aimed at the ready.

  What’s it all for? Why is it like this? Why like this?

  In the end we have a choice. Time begins, ends, starts over, and goes in new directions. It’s always moving, and does not stop, whether we’re awake, asleep, dreaming or dead.

  How is it possible? Sam said, wondering, puzzled about everything Tom had said.

  We have choices in life, and these choices have meaning with an outcome. For every action there’s an equal reaction; a balance.

  Sam began to understand that he was wedged in time, trapped in a flicker of light, and projected on a screen like a character in a movie. When the pendulum stops swinging, it coasts, and dangles freely, then swings back into motion. This short time bending glint is only evident during some calamity, and appears to be a dream. We think we’re awake, but deny it, then look deeply inside ourselves to find an internal mirror, a reflection of an altered world.

  At that moment the room sagged in the corners, and a water-fall of memories broke from the walls, and became a river. Sam floated in mid-air like a speck of dust invisible to the naked eye.

  He turned and saw his reflection in the mirror across the room, mouthed the words, Where am I? What time is it?

  Surprised and feeling dizzy, Sam stepped backward into the wall knocking off a picture. He stepped to the window, pulled the curtain away, and looked out the window. The wind was working overtime, knocking down and tossing pieces of things through the air. Wood and metal flew across the parking lot, and slammed into cars and trucks. The lights in the room and outside flickered at odd intervals.

  What is happening? he whispered, then turned to Tom. How will we know when he’s here?

  We won’t know that until he’s here.

  What’s that supposed to mean?

  It means we won’t know he’s here.

  What’s he going to do, sneak up on us? Try and scare us?

  Being afraid won’t help. We have to be strong and fight back, Tom said.

  I thought you said we wouldn’t be able to stop him, Sam said. You sound optimistic now, saying we should fight back.

  Then there was a rumble in the air, and lightning cracking in the clouds.

  Is that him? Sam asked.

  No, that’s just thunder. It’s going to rain. Holiday’s not the weather man.

  I thought since he had so much power, he controlled the forces of the universe.

  Hey, we want to help you, Sam. Holiday’s in transition like you, but been there a lot longer, so he’s stronger.

  What is transition? Sam asked.

  Resurrection, reincarnation, the circle of life, Tom said. He wants to take you back with him, and trade you for his son. That’s going to happen tonight unless we stop him.

  What about you, Tom? Are you in transition?

  Yes, and I’m staying here with Holiday. You’re going back alone.

  What?

  Going back alone.

  Alone?

  Yes.

  How’s that going to happen?

  When Holiday shows up, take his picture, Tom said, then he winked at Sam.

  Take his picture, Sam said, then looked at Tom. How’s taking his picture going to help? Are we sending it to the newspaper? To the police?

  If you take his picture while he’s here, he’ll be locked in this place with me forever. Here, we’re a reflection of time. It’ll just be Holiday and me, here in this place, running and chasing each other for eternity.

  Wait a second, and, where am I now?

  Right now you’re in the air, and on the ground, hurt I suspect from the accident. By the way, did you find the bones?

  The bones? What bones?

  Holiday’s bones.

  What? The bones! he said. Images of finding the bones flashed in Sam’s head. I remember, now. Holidays’ bones?

  Correct. Holiday kidnapped and killed Alan Rogers years ago. And, yes, Holiday wants you. If he get’s you, and leaves the air, he’ll be on the ground. He thinks he’ll be free on the ground, but he’s wrong. I’m not giving him the chance. He’s staying here with me.

  So, if I take his picture, he’ll be stuck here with you?

  That’s right.

  What about me? What happens to me?

  You’re leaving, and telling the world how Alan Rogers died.

  How did he die?

  Holiday wanted money. Lori wrote it all down in the journal. You know the one she carries around with her. It has the whole story about how Holiday killed Rogers. How we picked him up when he was hitch-hiking. How we drove to Roger’s house after talking about what a wonderful place it was. How he took money from the safe in his house and killed him. That’s why Holiday wants it. It’s all written in the book, take it. He wants to keep it a secret, and take his son’s body.

  His son’s body? The dentist, Sam said.

  Yes, his son, the dentist.

  How did he kill Rogers?

  He poured gas on him after tying him to a tree, and he burned to death. Holiday’s a monster.

  How do you know how he died?

  I was tied to the tree next to him.

  You’re dead?

  He took Lori from me after we got back from Japan. She wanted to see my old shop, and when we were driving there we picked up a hitch-hiker.

  Holiday? Sam said.

  He was friendly at first. We talked about a lot of things, then about Alan Rogers. He forced me at gun point to drive him to Roger’s house. Then walked into the woods near a stream next the house. I’m buried there.

  Don’t know how I got here, or by the tree where we met. I just remember seeing everything around me floating. Carving our names in the tree had something to do with it, and that’s why you’re here.

  So, the bones are Holiday’s? How did they get there?

  He had an accident at the same place as you. The car was never found, and covered by the overgrowth. Your car’s there now, too.

  And, what do we do, now?

  Just wait.

  Wait for what?

  Holiday!

  Outside the rain stopped, and only a few drops fell into puddles, onto cars, and drummed on the window. The wind yelled, offbeat, tearing through the trees that surrounded the hotel, squealing through the gaps of the windows.

  I don’t like it, Sam said with tension in his voice.

  Don’t worry, and just be ready with your camera. You need to take that picture of Holiday. No matter what happens, no matter what, Sam, take that picture of Holiday.

  I’ll handle my end, but you’ve got to hold up yours. I suspect you’ve got something planned, and I wish you’d fill me in, so I can play along.

  You’ll see soon enough, Sam. Just keep your eyes open, and your finger on the shutter. All the memories, good and bad, will be captured forever!

  DRIVER DREAMING

  The driver stayed awake by listening to music playing at ear-splitting volume as he navigated the narrow country roads and nameless valleys. I’ve got to make a pit stop pretty soon, drummed in his head as he hammered the clutch to the floor and downshifted into 3rd gear. The engine growled up the palis
ades, then like an airborne lasso, swung around the rim, and latched onto a hair-pin corner. The driver’s eyes snapped open, and followed the steel guardrail stitched along the twisting asphalt vein.

  Damn, I’m gonna fly off the road! he thought, and downshifted into 2nd gear as his field of vision moved from the road to the red-lining-tachometer. The car hugged and rounded the corner with no problem, landing at a section with a panoramic vista, and window, to a place that seemed to emerge from a land beyond.

  Man— it’s like being in the theater at the beginning of a show when the curtain opens, he thought.

  The Flame of Apollo, he whispered, turned the steering wheel like a captain gliding and swaying on waves of morning breakers curling on a bow of a ship. He parked, and watched the blinding golden majesty bubble from the horizon. He let his worries go, turned off the engine, and waited to admire how the solar splendor would sprinkle life over the earth. Moments later a peaceful golden ray rose on the steamy rolling hills and valleys, illuminating the horizon, and opening the dark unseen corners of the world.

  Look at that, he thought. I’m getting some shots of this.

  The driver grabbed his camera from the seat, set it on the dash, and waited for the moment—just the right moment.

  It’s . . . amazing, he muttered as he watched the jaw-dropping sky transform from dusk to dawn through the bug smeared windshield. Light’s the key, he whispered. He linked his thumb and fingers, then leaned out the window. He held his hand to his eye, and peered through the opening, adjusting the size like the aperture of a camera lens.