by Kevin Ryan
light all around her.
Looking down, Isabel saw that Jessica was with her,
lying on a low table. The girl had her eyes closed, but
Isabel could tell that she wasn't sleeping.
The little girl's eyes were shut, but they were being
squeezed shut tightly. Jessica was afraid, Isabel saw. She
was as afraid here as she had been in her bedroom. Isabel
decided that she couldn't let this continue. She would
have to try to contact Jessica directly. It risked waking her
up and expelling Isabel from the dream, but she had no
choice. She wasn't going to learn anything in this place.
And the girl was terrified.
Leaning down, she took Jessica's hand and whispered,
"It's all right. I'm here to help you."
* * *
Keeping her eyes closed, the little girl shook her head
and whispered back, "Don't make any noise, they'll come."
"I've come to find you. My friends and I are going to
help you," she said.
"No, run. They'll catch you if you stay," Jessica said.
The little girl's eyes opened. Then her mouth opened.
She was locked into a silent scream, gasping in terror over
Isabel's shoulder. Spinning around, Isabel looked up and
saw the monster from the closet's face. This time it was
huge, hundreds of feet across and looking down at them
from above.
Jessica screamed again, and this one wasn't silent.
Isabel realized a sound was rising in her own throat,
and then the world shifted around her again.
Isabel came out of the dream in the small room off of
Johnny's Garage. Jessica's screaming still echoed in her
mind as she shook her head to try to clear it.
Someone had her by the shoulders.
"Isabel!" a voice called to her.
She focused on his face. It was Max. All at once, the
screaming stopped. She realized that it was she who had
been screaming.
Her friends were circled around her, looking at her with
concern. Their sympathy made it harder for her to keep
her composure, so she stopped trying. She leaned into
Max's arms and let him hold her. When she finally felt like
she had control over herself, she pulled away.
"What happened, Is?" Max asked, his voice gentle with
concern.
"She was having a nightmare," Isabel replied. She took
* * *
a deep breath and explained everything she had just seen.
When she had finished telling the story, Liz nodded and
said, "Thank you, Isabel. I know that was hard for you."
"Not as hard as it was for Jessica," Isabel replied. "Wher-
ever she is, she's in real trouble and she's terrified. And I
don't think she'll live long if we don't do something."
"At the moment, there's nothing else we can do," Max
said. "We still don't know anything that could help her."
"I'll have to keep trying," Isabel said.
"Are you sure you want to do that?" Max said.
"I'm sure I don't," she replied. "But if I don't, Jessica will
die, and she's . . ." Isabel thought about how to explain
how scared Jessica was. She was in terrible danger, and she
was just a little girl on the inside
And there was something else. Jessica had gone back to
the closet to close the creature in—something Isabel was
sure she would be afraid to do. And she had told Isabel to
run, to save herself in that room. Jessica was brave and
had tried to protect her.
Isabel thought of how to explain that to her friends and
decided she couldn't—not that it mattered. What she had
to do, they couldn't help her with.
"Maybe there was something in the dream we could
use," Liz said, turning to Maria.
"You used to interpret my dreams. What does the room
mean? The monster?" Liz asked her.
Maria thought for a minute and said, "Well, her room
symbolizes security. When we dream about home, it rep-
resents a place where we can't be hurt. The fact that the
monster is threatening her in her room is odd. Monsters
usually represent the bad characteristics of the dreamer."
* * *
She shrugged and continued: "The large room without
walls is emptiness. It usually means disappointment that a
lot of effort put into something has come to nothing. The
fact that she's stuck on the table is pretty clear: helpless-
ness. All in all, not very useful. Sorry."
"What if some of the dream images are real?" Isabel
asked.
"Which ones?" Max said, looking at her with surprise.
"I don't know . . . what if the monster is just the guy
threatening her? No, not a guy. She said they," Isabel said.
"And what if she really is tied to a table somewhere?"
"You may be right—you probably are—but that still
doesn't help us," Liz said.
"I'll have to go back," Isabel said.
"But not tonight," Max said. "If she woke up, it will be a
while before she's asleep and dreaming again. You need
some rest."
Isabel nodded. She quickly undressed for bed, using
her powers to make her shirt into a longer nightshirt. She
was barely aware of the others around her. She crawled
into her sleeping bag and put her head down. Though she
was tired, she found that she was reluctant to close her
eyes. Finally, she did.
She only hoped that no dreams came.
* * *
Kyle and the others went to bed right after Isabel. After
watching her dreamwalk and hearing her tell the story, no
one wanted to talk or play cards anymore. That was just as
well with him. It had been a long day. He had worked a full
shift, and then there had been that business with Gomer.
Settling under the blanket, he was suddenly very aware
of the short distance between himself and Isabel—barely a
foot separated them. It wasn't that he'd minded. It was just
that. . . well, he knew it was a necessity. There just wasn't
room in the small apartment to give anyone much space
on the floor.
Still, he found he was very conscious of her breathing
next to him. And, as usual, she smelled wonderful. Then
he realized that Dawn was nothing compared with Isabel.
No, not nothing. She seemed nice enough but, she wasn't
what he wanted.
Well, it might be an accident, but it harmed no one if
he enjoyed being close to her. His thoughts were foolish,
he knew. She had just broken up with her husband.
* * *
Her husband.
Not her boyfriend, but her husband. And even before
Jesse, when she was free, she had never looked at Kyle in
any way other than friendship. Still, the thoughts came,
anyway. And though they were foolish, he also knew that
it wouldn't hurt anyone if he indulged in them.
Isabel started in her sleep, and for a moment, Kyle
thought she might wake up. She didn't. Instead, her hand
reached out and found his chest, and rested there for a
moment. He found that the sound of his own breathing
and the beating of his he
art seemed deafening. However,
no one else in the otherwise quiet room seemed to notice.
Then she was moving toward him in a sleepy haze.
Kyle held his breath as she put her head down on his
chest. He was amazed that the thundering inside didn't
wake her, but she stayed asleep.
Well, he thought. She's had a scare. It's only natural. She
probably thinks I'm Jesse.
Kyle regained his breath and slowly put his arm around
Isabel's shoulder. He suddenly felt guilty about his
thoughts about her. She was grieving the loss of her hus-
band, and scared to death for some poor girl. And there he
was entertaining a schoolboy crush.
They had more important things to think about now.
Something awful was happening in this town. Liz, Isabel,
and the others were trying to help. And Kyle knew what
his own father would do. Sheriff or not, his father had
never backed away from someone in trouble. Kyle would
do the same. He didn't know what good it would do any-
one. He didn't have Max's powers, or ever Liz's. He only
had himself. Still, he would lend whatever help he could.
* * *
Isabel stirred, and Kyle looked down at the top of her
head. She did smell wonderful.
Kyle knew it would be a long time before he fell asleep.
When Kyle woke up, Isabel was already up. In fact, all the
girls were. He saw that Max and Michael were just getting
up as well.
Maria was looking down at Michael and nudging him
with her foot. "Come on, Space Boy, you can walk us to
work," she said.
"We all will," Kyle said, getting up himself.
"Isabel, you should come too. I don't want you here
alone," Max said.
Isabel nodded and said, "I tried again, Max. I couldn't
make contact at all."
Kyle stepped forward and said, "Maybe she's just awake."
"Maybe," Isabel said flatly as she stepped outside. The
others followed.
Kyle could tell Isabel was still shaken up. Something
had happened to her in the dream. She was scared. That
told Kyle all he had to know about what they were up
against.
He had rarely seen Isabel frightened. Kyle had always
thought she was fearless by nature, cooler even than Max.
Part of it was her powers, he guessed. She could defend
herself against almost anything. A larger part of it was just
her nature, though. He had never seen her back down
from anything from a fight with an alien menace to an
uncomfortable situation with a friend.
Fear looked unnatural on her face, and Kyle found
something strange rising up in himself: anger. He was angry
* * *
that something would take hold of Isabel that way. She had
suffered enough. She had given up enough. Instinctively,
Kyle found himself walking closer to her. It was absurd. Of
the three guys in the group, he was the least able to protect
her or anyone else. In fact, if it were not for Michael, he
might not have survived his encounter with Gomer.
Still, Kyle decided that anyone out to hurt Isabel would
have to go through him first.
At the diner, Bell insisted that they stay to eat breakfast
before the place opened. Kyle was glad. The food seemed to
take Isabels mind off what was bothering her. Kyle ate
quickly; he had something he wanted to do before work. He
leaned down to Isabel and said, "Are you going to be okay?"
"Sure," she said. She looked cool and collected. It seemed
like the old Isabel was back, but Kyle didn't believe it for a
minute.
"Don't go to the Laundromat," he said. "Stay with Max
and Michael."
She started to protest, but Max interjected, "You can
keep trying to contact Jessica."
"I'll check out the Laundromat," Michael said. "I was
the first runner-up for the relief-attendant position."
"Okay," Isabel said. "I'll keep trying to reach Jessica."
Satisfied, Kyle said his good-byes and headed back to
the garage. He had about a half hour before work, and no
one was in yet. Heading around back, Kyle found the
minibus. It was sitting on cinder blocks and looking every
one of its thirty-some years of age.
It had been a hippie vehicle—that much Kyle could see
from the psychedelic paint. He wondered if Dan had been a
* * *
hippie back then. Dan wore his long gray hair in a ponytail,
but, still, the image didn't fit. He was way too serious a person.
Kyle grabbed a few old tools from the shed in the back
and got back to the van.-He opened up the hood and
checked out the engine compartment. He would need Dan's
permission to open up the engine and take a look at the
timing chain, but he did see a number of parts they could
use: alternator, starter, fuel pump. They were all things that
it would be a good idea to carry around as spares if they
kept the van. After all, it was at least as old as his father, and
Kyle was pretty sure that keeping it running would be a
serious part-time job for him in the weeks to come.
Next, he opened the driver's side door—which took
some doing—and climbed inside. The interior wasn't in
very good condition, with plenty of rust on the various
pieces of exposed metal.
There were only two seats in the front. The back was
left open, covered by a light blue shag carpet that looked
older than the van. It was also littered with old magazines
and other junk, including a broken guitar. He checked the
date on one of the magazines; it was a Life magazine from
1970. Like the van itself, it was an artifact from a different
age—or a different world. In all likelihood, the van had
been sitting on these cinder blocks since that time. In that
case, it would never be good for anything other than parts
and scrap metal.
When he put the magazine down, it opened and some-
thing fell out. Kyle thought it was a response card and
started to turn away when he noticed that it was actually a
color photo.
Leaning down, Kyle picked it up and looked into a
* * *
window straight into the past. The photo was of the van
when the psychedelic paint job must have been new. It was
parked in front of the garage, which looked much newer as
well. In front of the van was a tall, gangly teenager with
long hair, who was making a peace sign with his hand. He
looked maybe seventeen, about Kyle's own age. Next to
him was a boy of twelve or thirteen who had his arm
wrapped around the older boy's waist. The young boy was
smiling broadly and looking up in unabashed admiration
at the hippie teenager. Kyle turned the picture over and
saw, scrawled on the back, the words "Me and Johnny."
Turning it over again, Kyle studied the picture once
more. There was something touching about the way the
younger boy was looking at the older one. And something
familiar.
"Hey," a voice said from outside.
Surprised, Kyle lifted his head up quickly and banged it
on the top of the van. Turning around, he saw Dan looking
at him through the windshield. Up until now, Dan had
been stiff and serious. In fact, Kyle realized that he had
never seen the man smile.
But there was no mistaking the expression on his face.
Dan was angry.
Kyle stepped forward, not sure how to handle this. What
was his new boss thinking? Feeling clumsy, Kyle got into the
driver's seat and pushed the door open. Once again, it was
stuck and he had to struggle with it to force it open.
The whole time, Dan watched him, scowling.
When he was outside, Kyle said, "I didn't mean to ...
I'm sorry if I—"
"What are you doing?" Dan asked.
* * *
"I was just checking out the van to see if there was any-
thing we could salvage," Kyle said.
"But it's not your van, is it?" Dan said, his voice stern.
Kyle got the feeling that Dan was holding himself back
with some effort.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know it would bother you. I wasn't
taking anything. You said we could talk about us maybe
using some of the parts to fix our van," Kyle said.
Dan was silent for a moment. His face didn't change, or
soften at all, though. Finally, he said, "You've got work to
do. I need you to put a new carburetor on the pickup
inside. Dawn has the parts in the office."
Then Dan turned and walked toward the garage. Kyle
gave him a few seconds' head start and then started after him.
When Bell turned the sign on the door to OPEN, Liz real-
ized that something was wrong.
"Where's Jimmy?" she asked, as the first customers
came inside.
Bell shrugged. "He's usually on time, but he hasn't been
the same since ..."
There were a dozen people inside the diner. Liz knew
more were on the way. Liz had to put aside her worry for
Jimmy and his sister.
"What can I get you?" she asked the three men at her
first table.
Twenty minutes later, Jimmy came in. Gone was any
pretense of normality. His face was vacant. No, not vacant,
haunted.
"Hi Jimmy," she said.
He didn't look up until she repeated herself. Then he