by Shayn Bloom
The fire was only fifty feet away now, roaring before devouring everything and leaving only ash in its wake. Staring into the licking flames, my pulse quickened.
“Caleb,” I breathed. “We have to leave. If we run we can make it. We’ll follow the path. Do you know the way through?”
Closing his eyes, Caleb’s voice was a whisper. “Trash will burn.”
“What?” I gasped. “Caleb, we have to run!”
“Trash will burn,” he whispered again. The flames were near. I could feel their voluptuous heat.
“Caleb!” I yelled through the smoke. “We have to run!”
Heat poured over me like a tsunami. The monstrosity of flame had arrived. It was no longer a specter on the horizon but a demon on the doorstep. Towering above us, the wall of flame consumed the closest mountain of debris, eating furiously amid its rocketing sparks and crackling hunger.
“Caleb!” I screamed. “Caleb! You’ll die!” But he would not stand. Caleb continued to sit on the scrap metal, his eyes on the coming flames. He was beginning to glow red, the trash of his body already under attack. “Please!” I screamed. “Please run! Please!”
“Trash will burn,” he murmured.
“Run Caleb!”
He shook his head. “Trash will burn!” Caleb’s voice was rising. “I am trash and trash will burn! Trash will burn!”
We had seconds. Choking on the billowing smoke, I ran forward and grabbed his arm. “Run! We can make it! Caleb! NO!” Caleb’s arm disintegrated around my grip. The pieces fell to the ground. “No,” I moaned, collapsing beside him. I hugged him to me. “No…”
Caleb’s head rested on my shoulder. His body was already on fire, the flames eating him from inside. The searing melee swirled around us, engulfing everything. I held his broken body.
“I’m sorry!” I yelled. “Forgive me, Caleb!”
“Trash will burn!” Caleb screamed.
“No!” I screamed louder. “Forgive me!”
I was delirious, screaming to be heard.
“FORGIVE ME, CALEB!
CALEB, FORGIVE ME!
FORGIVE ME, ALEXI!
CALEB!
ALEXI!”
“ANNIE!”
I opened streaming eyes.
Adia Arrowheart was hugging my quaking body, her eyes wide. “Annie! Annie! You’re home, you’re safe!” She had never called me Annie before. No sooner had I registered the circular room with its many windows then I burst into tears, the whole of my being sobbing with misery. Adia held me close. I could feel the electric pulse of her warmth.
“They’re gone!” I cried. “I couldn’t save them! Caleb, Alexi –”
“I know,” Adia whispered. “I know…”
13. The Teacher
Caleb was dead. He had committed suicide. There was no escaping that fact, none for him and less for me. Ash had driven me home on Tuesday night. The journey had been made in silence. I had failed Caleb. I had failed my responsibilities as a Dreamdrifter. I had failed Ash and I had failed myself.
My only distraction was schoolwork. It was the Friday morning of Adia’s final exam. Ash had once again procured the exam from Todd and Ash and I had spent time studying over the last two days. Now we were driving to college, he to take an exam and me to take my last exam.
Ash observed my silence from the driver’s seat. “You can’t blame yourself.”
Releasing my lip, I returned his gaze. “I failed him,” I whispered. “I couldn’t figure him out. I never should have tried to become a Dreamdrif –”
“I never should have let you into his subconscious,” Ash interrupted. “That was my poor oversight. I knew Caleb was suicidal, but I didn’t think he would do it that day. The point is I should have known. It’s my fault.”
I bit my lip again. “Caleb was my responsibility,” I began. “He was my patient and I fai –”
“What are you going to do?” Ash interrupted. “Spend the rest of your life mourning his? What do you think doctors do when they lose a patient? They move on, Annie! They move on with their lives! We’re the same, we’re doctors of the subconscious, and we have to move on too!”
I was silent as I considered him.
“You’re still blaming yourself,” Ash said cheekily.
“Maybe,” I allowed. “But I don’t need you analyzing me, Ash. My parents do that enough.”
“Fine then,” he said. “I won’t. Speaking of analyzing people, let’s do some practice questions.” He thought for a second. “Your patient holds a belief that isn’t true. He sees evidence that contradicts his belief and continues to believe it regardless. He takes no medication and doesn’t have schizophrenia. What’s your diagnosis?”
My fingers combed my hair. “That’s easy: delusional disorder.”
Ash laughed. “You did study hard. Here’s a harder one: who first popularized the terms introversion and extroversion?”
“Carl Jung,” I answered.
“Nice!” Ash said. “What else is he known for?”
I had to think for a moment. “The collective unconscious theory?”
“Yup!” Ash said appreciatively. “His theory is completely wrong but a cool idea nonetheless. Here’s a much harder question: what is the name of Sigmund Freud’s book?”
“That’s easy,” I scoffed. “The Interpret –”
“In German,” Ash specified.
“Are you serious? I don’t know.”
“Die Traumdeutung.”
I rolled my eyes. “Like knowing that could actually ever help anybody. And I know that won’t be on the exam.”
“Probably not,” Ash agreed.
We arrived at Carroll Community College. The parking lot seemed emptier than it had been at the beginning of term. Many students had likely dropped their courses throughout the summer session. I hadn’t dropped my course. Instead, I had dropped college all together.
Adia Arrowheart was purple today. She was wearing a short summer dress with scrunchy shoulder bands. The dreamcatcher earrings were back and the enormous dreamcatcher necklace succeeded again in hiding the real thing. She stood waiting behind the teacher’s desk as students filled the room.
“Everything off the desks,” Adia ordered. “And remain in your seats,” she added. “I will distribute the exam momentarily. Studiers, have no worries. Procrastinators, best of luck!”
Retrieving the stack of papers from her desk, Adia walked down the center of the room and began distributing exams. She handed me two exams before pausing at my desk. “See me after class, Ms. McGallagher,” Adia said, continuing down the aisle. “But wait until the others have left.”
Ash leaned closer to me. “What do you think that was about?”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “Todd helping us out?”
Ash stared after Adia. “But then why let us take the exam at all?”
“No talking!” Adia had turned abruptly from the back of the room. “There will be no more talking. I will deduct a point for each word spoken. Therefore, I suggest silence. An exam is underway.”
“No duh!” Ash muttered.
“And there goes your perfect score, Mr. Wildecore,” Adia inflicted. “You’re already down two points. I hope you’ve studied. There will be no extra credit, there will be no curve,” she continued, addressing the room now. “There will only be silence from this point on.”
The next hour was spent listening to Ash fume while I took the exam. Todd had been true. The exam was an exact replica of the one we had studied. Ash took longer to complete the exam than I did, although perhaps he was double checking his answers. I hadn’t bothered. I just didn’t care anymore. While many of the students around me had years left in college, I had only minutes.
Everyone finished the exam within the hour. Students stood at random and handed Adia their exams before departing. Some of the girls uttered soft words as they handed their papers over, but the guys simply nodded before exiting, leaving Adia and perhaps psychology behind them forever.
Finally,
Ash and I were alone with the teacher. Standing, we walked to her desk. After handing Adia our exams, we waited for her to finish packing her documents. Adia zipped up her dark leather bag before nodding to the classroom door. “My office is down the hall.”
“Y’know,” Ash interjected. “You could just talk to Annie here now that the room is empty.”
“I prefer my office,” Adia said. “Mr. Wildecore, you may politely reserve your observations for matters that concern your business. I have a meeting with Annie and Annie only.”
Ash shrugged.
“Follow me, Annie,” Adia instructed.
Dragging my feet, I followed her down the hall and into her office. Ash followed in our wake, eventually electing to wait just outside the door. Adia’s office wasn’t large. Two people could sit comfortably with the desk between them, but there was little room for much else.
“Please sit down,” Adia said.
Her tone, usually so forceful in the classroom, had changed noticeably. Adia was soft spoken in her own workspace. Sitting, I gazed around the small area. The assortment of plagues and posters surrounding her desk were an unexciting bunch: a map of America, quotes from famous psychologists, Adia’s doctoral certificate, and a beautiful watercolor of an icy dreamcatcher.
Sitting herself, Adia stared at me from across the desk. Tingles spread through me. I knew this feeling. Adia was analyzing me. My parents gave me the same feeling all the time.
“How was the exam?” Adia asked. “Difficult?”
I bit my lip. “The exam was fine.”
Unsatisfied, Adia shook her head. “Easy, difficult, average?”
“Easy, I guess.” My tone was reluctant.
Adia watched me closely. “I would hope the exam was easy, Annie,
