Bridge Between the Worlds

by R. B. L. Gillmore

  Amy concentrated hard on the flask whilst simultaneously trying to let herself detach from the world around her. She realised that, strangely, this felt like trying to get to sleep. With that thought, large parts of the world around her suddenly disappeared. In an instant she realised what had happened. This was the way to switch, by knowing that this was a dream and feeling that she needed to leave it. She tried to think about Martay and the hotel and getting back there when she suddenly realised that the flask in her hands was fading away. This was a tricky game of concentration, she realized, but moments later she could feel the soft warmth of her sheets and heard the sound of nearby voices. One was the sonorous tones of Martay, whilst the other was the shrill, higher notes of Snipping.

  Amy smiled without yet opening her eyes. She knew she had done it, she could feel the hard yet leathery flask gripped firmly in her hand. She had created something intentionally. It was a big step.

  After having stowed the flask of water away in a bag, Amy dressed and joined the others. They had ordered breakfast up to the room and were waiting for it to arrive. They missed out on the buffet this way, to Martay’s dismay, but it would have been impractical.

  Both Martay and Snipping looked up expectantly as Amy joined them and she smiled broadly in response. She was about to open her mouth and discuss the events of her night when there was a knock at the door. Martay jumped up to answer it and Snipping ducked into the toilet quietly. Two men pushed in an impressive trolley laden with all sorts of breakfast articles. Instead of leaving it in the room, the waiters began serving them and waited with tea and coffee pots in readiness to refill their cups. In order partly to sound like the couple they were pretending to be and also partly because he wanted to hear how Amy had gotten on, Martay asked a seemingly innocent question in Hungarian.

  “Did you sleep well darling?” Amy looked up at his cheeky expression.

  “Very well thank you. I had some very strange dreams though,” she replied in somewhat broken Hungarian.

  “Oh, that’s probably from being exhausted by the skiing. What did you dream about?”

  Amy pretended she was struggling to remember and that what she was about to describe was highly unusual rather than expected. This illusion was easy to create because she genuinely struggled to find the right words in Hungarian. From where she sat, she was certain she could see the shadow of Snipping listening at the bottom crack of the bathroom door.

  As they discussed her dream, one of the waiters refilled Amy’s tea. When Martay's coffee emptied however, the waiter with the tea had to nudge his colleague who had not reacted and gestured quietly at Martay's cup. He absentmindedly stepped over and refilled the cup, but didn’t seem to be paying much attention. Martay gave him an odd look before continuing the conversation with Amy.

  Eventually the waiters began packing up and Martay kept a number of breads and danishes, then the waiters left in a bustle and Snipping was able to come out from hiding.

  In true Snipping form, his first words were of reproach.

  “It was bloody stupid to discuss ya lesson in front o’ strangers!”

  “We were just talking about dreams,” Amy said carefully, “AND we were speaking in Hungarian, which means I probably stuffed up a lot of the grammar, but also that we wouldn’t have been understood. Almost no one speaks Hungarian.”

  “Your Hungarian was excellent,” Martay interjected, slightly off topic and a little bashfully. Amy didn’t seem to notice because Snipping was being critical again.

  “Ya don’t know that ya weren’t understood. It’s very similar to elvish.”

  “Riiiiighht,” Amy retorted sarcastically, “that’s a really good point, we should be careful because although almost no one speaks Hungarian, it’s very similar to elvish and therefore might be understood by the multitudes of people around here who can speak elvish. Honestly Snipping, we’re fine!”

  Regrettably this didn’t prove to be true. On the contrary, irony descended on her immediately. Right as she finished saying the word fine, the sound of screaming tyres from the carpark outside shattered the peace.

  Amy, Martay and Snipping jumped at the noise.

  If their hearts weren’t already pounding from the surprise of the sudden loud noise, they were after they heard the unmistakable sound of metal crashing into metal. They rushed to the window and looked down at the cars where their fears were realised. Someone had just crashed headlong into their car, utterly demolishing the front left side and crushing the wheel cavity. Even if the motor was ok, the car would be undriveable. They watched as the man who had crashed stumbled out of his car and grabbed by a number of hotel staff. They were yelling rapidly in French. Amy’s heart jumped into her ears. She had thought the driver looked familiar and Snipping who had plainly been spying from under the bathroom door spotted the problem as well. It was the absent-minded waiter who had just finished serving their breakfast. He must have rushed straight to his car after leaving. He was babbling loudly at the people around him. Amy looked over at Martay fearfully.

  “What is he saying?” Martay asked.

  Amy looked distinctly pale.

  “He is asking over and over, where am I? What happened? How did I get here?”

  The three of them looked at each other grimly and Snipping spoke.

  “We ‘ave a serious problem. Gorhoth knows we’re ‘ere and it looks like ‘e’s workin’ out pretty quickly ‘ow things work on earth judgin’ from ‘ow ‘e knew to destroy our best method o’ transport. We need to leave, right away.”

  There was no argument. They all rushed to pack everything. By the time they were in the lobby, the hotel manager had emerged to apologise, explaining that they would not be charged for their stay and that he would arrange for repairs to the car. Martay hurriedly expressed his thanks but then had an idea.

  He acted fast, hoping that Amy would not let herself look surprised.

  “That’s quite alright,” he explained as the manager apologised again. He was a sharp man and was asking if they would like to call their parents to explain what had happened. Martay decided not to diverge from the managers thinking, he would play instead to his expectations.

  “My parents were meant to be meeting us in Geneva today before returning here together. Do you think we could arrange transport to get there and meet them? I would rather explain this to them in person if you understand.”

  “Certainly sir, I shall arrange for a driver to take you immediately.”

  Amy sat quietly. It was a good plan and would take them straight to an international station or airport. Thankfully, maintaining the pretence that they had a child to take care of meant that taking a lot of luggage everywhere with them didn’t seem too unusual. Parents constantly needed to have supplies for their children at hand.

  Soon they were cruising along in the backseat of a large Mercedes saloon car, trying not to appear nervous or apprehensive. The driver never said a word. All they could gather was that this was the hotel owner’s own car and chauffeur. They didn’t dare speak about what to do next or about Amy’s dream. Clearly the enemy was a lot closer on their heels than they thought.

  They were sharing nervous looks, Snipping was clearly fidgeting in his hiding place below the blankets of the cot they had put him in. Thankfully it seemed the driver had no experience in transporting babys and had not said a word about needing to use a baby seat of some kind. He remained equally oblivious to Snipping’s fidgeting whilst he focused on the road. Amy was glad that he was focused on the road for many reasons, not least of all because the car was absolutely flying along it. Evidently living in the mountains as a driver helped to develop a certain level of surety and skill at managing the slippery surfaces. Amy and Martay found it very nerve-racking and the drive to Geneva seemed to take forever despite also feeling extremely fast.

  The length of the drive was also exacerbated by the heavy morning traffic flow once they got nearer to Geneva. The whole northern side of Lake Geneva was built up with towns th
at blended in to each other all the way from Montreaux to their destination and if there hadn’t been such a black cloud of anxiety hanging over them, Amy might have thoroughly enjoyed the trip. The sky was wonderfully clear and they could see clear over the lake and up to the mountains on the other side where they had been skiing yesterday. As they passed by a small town called Préverenges, Martay finally dared to speak, choosing his words extremely carefully after the morning’s disaster.

  “Do you remember which train they are arriving on?”

  What he really wanted to know was in fact the opposite, where should they head to next? Unfortunately, Amy didn’t have a clue where they should go and to avoid a suspiciously long silence she replied by saying she couldn’t remember which platform it was meant to arrive on. Quick on his feet, Martay suggested they look online to try and work it out. The solution was quite simple, look for the next train they could catch leaving Switzerland. Estimating when they would arrive at the station, Martay pointed at a train departing to Rome and Amy nodded in agreement.

  They were fast approaching Geneva and the driver was relentless overtaking other cars, switching lanes every few moments, yet all the while with a smooth and graceful flow. As they entered the streets of the city itself, they were finally brought to a halt.

  Amy and Martay could barely wait until they got to the station. They started grabbing all of their things as they drew alongside the old building and got ready to lift Snipping out into a pram. The driver couldn’t get out in time to open Amy’s door, she had shot out of it the second the car came to a stop. Martay was rapidly explaining that thanks to the driver’s efforts there would be fortyfive minute wait. As such, they were happy to simply hire a car for convenience once their parents arrived and that he would therefore not have to wait for them. The driver didn’t bother to question this. He gave them a short little nod and touched his cap respectfully before sliding back into the driver’s seat and pulling away. Amy and Martay headed inside.

  They were still too nervous to discuss anything too openly for fear that they would be noticed but there was nothing for it, they needed to discuss what had happened. They quickly found a parent room where Snipping could converse with them. He was still very disgruntled and felt too hot for comfort but wasn’t going to let that distract him from the importance of the conversation at hand.

  “Gorhoth is learnin’, and learnin’ fast. You two may not’ve noticed the waiter’s odd behaviour at breakfast but I did. ‘e knew that ‘e would need time to break ya mind once ‘e ‘ad trapped ya so ‘e decided first to remove ya best method o’ escape. Perhaps he assumed you’d stay to fix the vehicle, which was a mistake but it’s concernin’ ‘e knew which one we were usin’. In fact, I think it may ‘ave been what led to ‘is findin’ us. There’d been no sign of ‘im before.”

  “But does that mean that someone noticed the car appearing?” Amy asked. “You said it would create… echoes or something if someone saw it and realised what had just appeared.”

  “Yeah, I reckon that must’ve been the case and it means that now we ‘ave a serious problem. Gorhoth can take control of almost any dreamer, and humans ‘ave an annoyin’ propensity to do this even when yer still mostly awake. ‘is puppets can appear anywhere. We could move a thousand miles in a second and ‘e could still be there the second after if ‘e keeps track of us.”

  “Maybe but as long as we keep to busy areas, if one of his puppets tries to do something the police will be there quickly to stop them.”

  “Perhaps,” said Snipping, “unless ‘e works out that ‘e should try to control a policeman, at which point we’re in big trouble. And there’s another matter we must be cautious of. Miss Amriel, ya musn’t create anythin’ from a human dream state. It’ll leave ya too vulnerable to mistakes, not to mention yer mind’ll be more susceptible to ‘is attacks. The last thing we need right now is for ‘im to find ya and start tryin’ to manipulate ya. In fact, it would probably be best if ya didn’t create anythin’ at all for the time bein’.”

  Amy hardly needed to be told, she felt horrified that she had possibly just doomed someone to a life of madness and placed herself and her friends in danger in the process.

  “We ‘ave an advantage still,” continued Snipping. “As you’ve seen, whenever Gorhoth does somethin’ dramatic, the person ‘e’s controllin’ tends ta snap out o’ their daydreaming. This’ll give us a reasonable grace period to escape if ‘e does anythin’ untoward with the person ‘e controls. ‘e’ll need to plan a more careful strategy if ‘e wants to take us captive physically. Not that that’s necessary for ‘im in the long run but it’d make things much easier for ‘im.”

  Martay cut in since they now urgently needed to make their way to their train, lest they miss it.

  He led the way to the platform briskly after picking up tickets.

  They reached the platform and quickly checked on one of the electronic billboards to confirm that their train would be arriving in five minutes. The air was very chilly in the open and they wrapped scarfs warmly around their necks and pulled out their warmer jackets. Martay bought some snacks from one of the vending machines on the platform and by the time he had retrieved them, the train was pulling into the station. They hurried on board and found their compartment where they settled in.

  Knowing that the ticket inspector would come around shortly after departing, and having brought the tickets under the premise that Snipping was an infant, he needed to remain in the cot, where he stayed buried under some blankets. By this stage he was feeling outrageously cramped and stiff but he would have to wait a little while longer.

  The ticket inspector came and went and finally Snipping could emerge.

  “I’m sick o’ seein’ that bloody lake!” was his first unhappy remark, seemingly made for the sole purpose of expressing his general displeasure.

  Amy couldn’t help but grin. This was indeed the third time in short succession that they had travelled along the northern edge of Lake Geneva. She too was looking forward to a scenery change. Even more so, she wanted to leave the memory of their disaster behind them.

  At first though, it felt like they were steadily making their way back into danger. The train ran in the same initial route as their last one and Amy peered out at each station with clenched fists and apprehension etched into her face.

  Amy and Martay found some solace in the knowledge that so far at least, no one had tried to seriously harm them. Searching their house and damaging their car was nerve-racking but didn’t instil a deeper level of fear, and as the train continued on its way south east, somehow their spirits started to rise a little again. Martay even ventured to suggest, jokingly, that they should stop and ski in the Italian alps instead. He had said it so sarcastically that even Snipping let out a chuckle.

  Eventually though, Amy raised the topic that was truly bothering her. As uncomfortable as it was to think about, she turned to Snipping for counsel.

  “Snipping, we know that Gorhoth found out about the car, which probably means someone must have seen it appear right?”

  Snipping nodded very slowly, being cautious with his response.

  “Yeah, I reckon that the creation must’ve been noticed by someone and the resultin’ acknowledgement must ‘ave sent a tellin’ echo through the dream plane. It’s rather like the tell-tale ripples o’ calm water. You can follow ‘em to their source.”

  “So, the person that saw the car appear…”

  “What you should say is, the person who realised that the car ‘ad simply appeared. I’m sure others saw it but believed it must ‘ave been there the whole time. Human minds constantly fight to explain their surroundin’s and typically they won’t acknowledge a fact if it contradicts what they believe to be possible and true.”

  “Yes yes, you know what I meant,” retorted Amy impatiently, “but, will they, you know, actually go mad?”

  Snipping furrowed his brow and let out an odd kind of sigh, mixed with a thoughtful, ‘ahhhh’. This didn
’t comfort Amy at all but then offered a genuine answer.

  “It’s impossible to say. Any number o’ things could ‘appen and it all comes down to the mind o’ the individual. Some humans ‘ave an odd desire, or even a need to be believed. If this is the case, then they’ll probably go mad cos they’ll endlessly try to convince others o’ what they’ve seen and when this attempt is continually ignored they’ll eventually become paranoid, start doubting ‘emselves. They’ll end up thinkin’ that the others must be right and that they ‘ave indeed gone mad. It’s a self fulfillin’ expectation.

  On the other ‘and, if the person doesn’t feel the need to be believed, they may live out their life quite peacefully, albeit on the lookout for another such occurrence. Those of strong will tend to do that and be contentment. Those of weak will, ‘owever, are likely to believe that they keep seeing things simply appearing everywhere until this thought drives ‘em mad.”

  Amy sank back heavily in her chair looking miserable, and this failed to express just how miserable she actually felt. This was the first thing to have happened that made the seriousness of her situation touch her deeply. This wasn’t a game or some action movie adventure for her anymore. It was very, very real.

  Martay couldn’t fail to notice how unhappy she was. He felt a strange twist somewhere deep down in his stomach that made him squeamish. He wanted to do something to comfort her, but what? Ideas kept spinning through his head. He knew what he wanted to do and maybe should do but kept thinking over and over how exactly he would do it. What if Amy didn’t react the way he anticipated? In the end he meekly let out a phrase meant to comfort her.