The Dream Catcher's Daughter

by Steven Fox

  Jason’s smile disappeared. To get so excited—how could he abandon either Len or Darlene? He couldn’t let them go without him, either. He had to be there to absorb the dreams.

  “Wait, Len, can’t you go and put the dreams in your flute? Then I can absorb them when you come back…”

  Len shook her head. “This flute hasn’t been blessed by my mistress.”

  Jason heaved a sigh. He thought for a moment, hoping to find something, anything to help get all three of them on the train. But he couldn’t think of anything. He came to a decision, and turned to Darlene, who was on her phone.

  “Listen, Darlene…”

  “Hold on,” she said.

  “Well, it’s just that…”

  “I said wait, Jason.”

  She clicked something, and smiled. Then she held out her hand. “Gimme one of those tickets. I need a picture of it.”

  Jason rolled his eyes. “Come on, try to be serious here. I think it’d be best if—”

  Darlene snatched one of the tickets out his hand. “You talk too much.” She held the ticket up to her phone’s camera, then snapped a picture. Jason took the ticket back.

  “There, happy? Now, Darlene…”

  Then Darlene’s phone glowed. The light began around the phone’s edges, then channeled into the middle. Darlene laid the phone flat in the center of her palm. The light bubbled, forming a little dome on the cell phone’s screen, and from the bubble a glowing square arose to float mid-air above the phone. The square’s glow faded, and a ticket appeared. Darlene grabbed the ticket, and flashed it at the conductor.

  “Will this get me on?”

  The conductor took the silver ticket and inspected it with a careful eye. He grunted. “Well, despite witnessing the fraudulence firsthand, I can’t detect any serious flaws. Even bends the same way a real silver ticket does. Welcome aboard, Miss!”

  Darlene smiled, and walked toward the stairs. Jason’s lower jaw dropped to his knees. Len grinned. “C’mon, slow pokes!” said Darlene. “We don’t have all day!” Jason and Len turned in their tickets, and the conductor welcomed them aboard.

  “Next stop, Visonia! Kingdom of Dreams!”

  As the train pulled away from the platform, no one seemed to remember that the Guardian, hidden under all his shadows, had programmed the spell Darlene used to duplicate Jason’s ticket, and had instructed her to use it thus.

  PART TWO

  FOURTEEN

  The conductor ushered them into a long, wide box car that, if repaired, would’ve looked like a five-star restaurant on wheels, complete with plush booths and marble tabletops. The flowery, cream-colored wallpaper would’ve added a nice finishing touch to the car, like how the right bow makes a present all the more desirable on Christmas Day. Now, the car looked more like a present that had been mauled by a wild pack of wolverines: the booths’ upholstery in shreds, stuffing blossoming out of the cuts like fluffy gore; the tables upturned and used as barricades; the wallpaper black and peeling.

  Gunshots echoed in the distance, even though the people shooting the guns were mere feet away from them. Len’s eyes widened. Darlene wrapped her arm around Len’s waist, whispering comfort as a mist of dust rose from a grenade detonation. Most of the people here looked to be around Jason’s age. Strangely, instead of war duds, these kids wore t-shirts and jeans, a dozen with gaming headsets on and controllers in their hands.

  “Sorry,” said the conductor. “Didn’t mean this to be your first room.”

  “Room?” said Jason.

  “These are dreams,” said Len. “At least, that’s what I’m gathering. Most of these kids probably play a lot of shooting games.”

  The conductor motioned toward the disaster zone in front of them. “Believe it or not, this is one of our most popular cars. It’s a little chaotic for my taste, but, hey, different strokes for different folks.” He motioned them forward as he stepped into the fray. “Don’t worry. To them, we’re not here. Even if they were able to see us, they couldn’t touch us. That’s just the nature of this car…one big game.”

  Len grunted. “Don’t see how war is a game.”

  They made it to the end of the car when a bomb exploded and everyone, except the conductor, jumped. The conductor only smiled at the others from over his shoulder. They pushed on through into the next car. Everyone except Jason seemed to enjoy the Sex Car—a narrow hall draped in red, the only light came from candles that hung like bats from the ceiling. Beds hugged the walls; nearly all of them were occupied. Darlene’s cheeks flushed red as she spotted a young lesbian couple sprawled out not even four feet away from them. Len stole a few glances at Darlene’s rump.

  Jason marched forward while the others remained behind. The conductor called out to him: “Hey, what’s the hurry? There’s lots of things to see here. You can even join in.”

  “But…they won’t see us, will they?” said Darlene.

  “That was the last room. Each room is different. Unique in its rules. Such is the nature of dreams.”

  Jason ignored them: Just a few more feet to the door. His eyes flickered to the right, where a young brunette, fully clothed, sat alone by a window. Seeing she was the only clothed person in this car, Jason sat across from her while he waited for his friends. Her hair was a shade of dark chocolate and wavy. Her eyes were hidden by a black bandanna. She shifted in her seat.

  “Can I help you?” she said.

  “Not really,” he said. “Unless you can hurry my friends out of this car.”

  “Yeah, good luck with that. Some prefer this to Visonia.”

  He glanced toward the wriggling masses of bodies behind the blindfolded girl, and pursed his lips. “Sounds like you’ve been here before.”

  “I’ve been around.”

  Jason tilted his head, glancing at his friends. The conductor seemed to be explaining something to Darlene and Len. Their faces grew redder and redder with each passing sentence.

  “Can you see with that on?” said Jason, pointing to her blindfold.

  “Don’t point. It’s rude.”

  Jason lowered his hand, and laughed. Something he hadn’t done in such a long time. They continued talking. The girl’s name was E. Simply E. Visonia was her home; she lived and slept and ate there. Jason straightened in his seat, but E said he shouldn’t be alarmed. She was flesh and blood, like him. Just a denizen of another dimension. Then E sat there, facing toward Jason. He couldn’t tell for sure, but he thought she might be staring at him.

  “You look…familiar,” she said. “Have we met before?”

  “Not that I know of,” said Jason.

  Not long after, the conductor led Darlene and Len to the front of the car. Upon seeing E, the conductor gave a slight bow, his mop of brown hair flopping over his brow.

  “Pardon me, Madam E, but I didn’t know you cared for these seats.”

  Her face tilted toward Jason, as though she were glancing at him. “I was about to retire. How long until we reach Visonia?”

  “Three hours at most.”

  E nodded, then stood and moved toward the door. Before exiting, E turned back to Jason and smiled. “Forth, young stranger!” And she disappeared.

  Jason stared after her, and just then realized his heart was pounding in his throat. Looked familiar…She said I looked familiar. She looked familiar, too.

  The conductor cleared his throat. “We’re almost to your car. I suggest we get a move on. It’s almost time for dinner.”

  ***

  They passed through a car shaped like the inside of a medieval castle. Another like the control room of a Star Trek spacecraft. They’d narrowly avoided a half-naked jungle man in the jungle car before piling through another door. In between cars, they stopped for breath. All except the conductor were panting.

  “Next car, I swear,” he said.

  Jason would break the conductor’s nose if he were wrong. Thankfully, he wasn’t.

  The dining car seemed almost impossible: Most of the cars up to this poin
t had seemed more than impossible, but this car contained an entire dinner hall, with dozens of tables dressed in white tablecloths, set with silverware and crystal goblets. Flames danced atop trident-shaped candlesticks. The carpet beneath them felt like lush grass between their toes, even though they had shoes on. The aromas of roasted meat and honey cakes made Jason’s mouth water. The conductor looked at their tickets, then surveyed the tables.

  “Ah, Table Five, right over there.”

  He led them through the cluster of tables. All the scents made Jason’s stomach whine—he hadn’t eaten much in the past day. By the longing looks on Darlene and Len’s faces, neither had they. Luckily for them, the food was included with their tickets. They sat down at Table Five and the goblets filled with their favorite drinks: Jason’s with root beer; Darlene’s with Dr. Pepper. Len’s glass filled with a bright blue fizzy liquid that Jason didn’t recognize. Darlene took a whiff of the drink, and perched her brow.

  “Is this an energy drink?”

  “Yeah,” said Len. “It’s the only way I can stay awake all the time.”

  “All the time? No wonder your hair is gray. Not that it matters: Your hair’s pretty no matter the color.”

  Suddenly, Len seemed to find the table very interesting, craning her neck until she was nearly kissing the white tablecloth. Darlene and Jason’s eyes met, and he winked.

  A dinner bell rang, and out of nowhere a gaggle of waiters and waitresses appeared, bearing armfuls of menus. They had neon hair that streaked behind them like comet-tails as they soared above the diners’ heads with winged boots. One waitress stopped at Jason’s table, her red hair floating about her like goo inside a lava lamp. She smiled at them, and Jason thought her face looked funny. Like the way the alley had looked funny just before they entered the portal.

  “Welcome,” she said. “I’m Narissa, your waitress. I invite you to browse our menu. Please, take your time. There is no rush.”

  She set the menus upon her hair and the undulating current of neon red carried each menu to Len, Darlene, and Jason respectively. Then Narissa cometed away to serve another table.

  Jason opened his menu, scanning through the thick anthology of the best food he had eaten in his short life. All of his favorites were there—pizza, sushi, barbecue, fried chicken. As Jason ventured deeper and deeper into the menu, he became distraught: What should he eat? He had to pick wisely, especially when he could have any of his favorites for free. Jason was about to ask Darlene her opinion when he landed on a particular page, labeled “House Special.” Underneath this the caption read: “Ra’at—what you’ve always hungered for.” He’d never had Ra’at or could even try to guess what it was, but the boy’s curiosity overpowered his familiar tastes.

  “Excellent!” Narissa said after she’d returned. “We’ll get that out to you ASAP.” Then she took Len and Darlene’s orders before shooting away again.

  For a few moments, the three of them talked casually. They noted how unusual the train was, how nice and exotic the servers were. They were excited for their meals, Jason especially so. He wondered what the Ra’at would taste like, how it would feel on his tongue. Would it be warm? Would it be soup? Maybe an ice cream that tasted like soup? Or vice versa? After Jason depleted his stock of questions, Len turned to him.

  “I don’t think I know a lot about your parents,” she said. “I’ve met your father. He seems nice.”

  “He is. Can be. But he was a lot better when Mom was still around. So I’ve heard.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “She died when J.Kinney was young,” said Darlene. “We think it’s part of the reason his dad is acting weird.”

  “Weird?”

  Jason looked around, making sure no one was close enough to hear, though he wasn’t exactly sure why. He leaned forward. “I was certain my dad would never want my memory erased. Rules aside, I am his only son. He told me the day I was born was his happiest.” Jason looked down at the table. His ghost of a smile vanished. “But now he doesn’t seem to care either way. He works all the time, and I have no fucking clue what goes through his head.”

  Silence between them. Then Len cleared her throat. “Sorry, but at least you can remember your parents saying that. Suck it up, Princess.”

  Darlene snorted, then broke into a full-bellied laugh. Jason joined in, and Len did, too. When the laughter faded, Len smiled.

  “I will have the Guardian’s head.”

  At first, Darlene smiled too, thinking Len must be telling another joke. But Jason knew better, and he almost wanted to tell Len to shut up. He didn’t, of course. And Len sat back in her chair, closing her eyes.

  “I will prove the Guardian killed my parents,” said Len.

  Darlene sat up straight. “How do you know he killed them? I mean, could’ve been something like Jason’s mom…car accident.”

  “I wish.” She opened her eyes and leveled them with Jason’s. “You believe me, don’t you?”

  “Well, I would. But in a couple of days, I won’t even remember who you are. I don’t think it’d be very helpful to have an amnesiac as one of your witnesses in magic court.”

  Len smiled wolfishly. “No, I suppose not.” Then her eyes flickered to Darlene, who was staring off into space. Jason could tell she didn’t want to look Len in the eye. Jason hadn’t known until the Guardian said it, but Jason should’ve been able to spot the telltale sign that Darlene was the Guardian’s descendent—green eyes, just like her grandfather.

  “What about you, Darlene?” Len rested her elbows on the table. “Either of your parents dead?”

  By the casual look in her eye, Jason thought that, right now, Len had no idea who Darlene was related to. It would come up eventually, but better to let Darlene handle it.

  “My parents are both alive and well. Mama teaches at the high school for magi. Papa is an ambassador for the Council.”

  “Ambassador? He must travel a lot.”

  “He does. But he loves it. It’s what his father always wanted for him—to travel and learn about all the different kinds of magic. Father always has a new spell or two to show me after he comes home.”

  Len was about to say something else, but Narissa appeared holding a large tray high above her head. Jason thought the tray should’ve touched the ceiling, but the ceiling seemed to grow taller and taller each time Jason looked at it. Narissa unloaded their meals onto her flowing locks of hair.

  “I apologize for the wait. The Ra’at especially took a time to prepare.” Jason looked up and saw Narissa grinning at him, her cheeks the same shade of red as her hair. “I do hope you find everything to your liking. Please, enjoy.” And after each of the meals were deposited onto the table, Narissa left again.

  There, before Jason, sat a giant box covered in pink wrapping paper. It appeared as though he could fit inside the box. He peaked around the box to spy on Len and Darlene. Their meals were normal, served on plates. They eyed his box with wonder. Jason examined the box closely, hoping to find an ear of cardboard he could pull on. Then he noticed something hanging from the top. He reached up and pulled down a small card folded in half.

  “A love note from Narissa?” said Darlene. Jason glared at her. “What? She did blush at you.”

  The card told Jason how to open the box: All he had to do was lift it from the base. Setting the card down, Jason stood and bent over to examine the box. Indeed, the box and its bottom were slightly disconnected—two separate parts. His stomach grumbled impatiently as he grabbed the box from both sides. Len and Darlene had already started on their meals, their forks and knives clinking. Len’s flaky piecrust crumbled as she cut into it. The savory pie filling wafted its scent in Jason’s direction. He couldn’t see Darlene’s food, but it smelled spicy. He lifted the box’s top and dropped it on the floor.

  Len looked over, her eyes wide. Darlene’s mouth hanged agape. Jason whispered to himself, “Forth.”

  Tara Engel sat half-naked, cross-legged upon Jason’s plate. Her hair was in a b
ob and her breasts were only concealed by one arm crossed over her chest. She wore shorts hiked halfway up her thighs. She uncrossed her legs, then re-crossed them. Jason stole glances at the spot where Tara’s legs met her body.

  “Jason…Why don’t you look at me?” she cooed. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Don’t I just look so scrumptious? Hm…Maybe I wasn’t the meal you were expecting? I guess that’s possible. But why don’t you say so?”

  Jason kept his head down, clenching his hands over his knees.

  “Hey, don’t drop me.”

  Jason’s heart thudded hard inside his chest.

  “You wanted this. You can’t just let go of me. If you don’t look at me, you’re going to regret it.”

  Jason already regretted it. He tried to let his mind wander, hoping if he ignored her long enough she’d give up and disappear. Poof. Gone. Just like last time. But this Tara was so much more persistent. She plopped down on his lap. Light as dandelion fluff, yet Jason couldn’t even bring himself to shove her away. Her free hand stroked his face while the other covered her breasts. Jason could feel the pressure in the back of his neck begin to build. The liquid stone had yet to flood him.

  “Look at me,” she said, running a thumb across Jason’s lips.

  He shivered. How had she known to do that? Only the real Tara knew about Jason’s lips. She’s not real, he thought. She only looked real. She only felt warm and soft atop his lap, against his chest. He wanted to wrap her up in his arms and never let her go. Finally, he looked up; it was the same face. Though he’d never seen her hair in a bob. But something nagged at him—had he seen Tara in a bob somewhere? No, he hadn’t. But had he? Her breath was warm and sweet, like applesauce. Jason’s hands twitched. They wanted to run through Tara’s hair, down her arms, across the back of her neck—the spot Tara hated anyone to touch. But he used to touch it anyway, because the smile Tara made when he did was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

  “Jason, oh Jason,” she said. “Look in my eyes.” And he did. His heart raced, rushing in his temples and ears. Tara leaned in, her eyes fluttering closed. Jason’s did the same. Their lips met.