Sleeping World

by K M Frost

I didn’t have an answer for her, but I pulled her into a hug. She snaked her arms around my middle and held on tight.

  I glanced over her head at our parents, and saw them watching us with solemn faces.

  I held Ellie until the tears began, then Mom took over for me, wrapping Ellie in her arms and whispering soothingly to her.

  I untangled my legs from my blankets on the floor and made my way to where Dad sat cross-legged on the floor by the door, his small pile of weapons laid out nearby.

  He forced a smile, though he looked completely exhausted. I knew he’d stayed up all night to protect us, and I couldn’t resist reaching over to hug him.

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  He smiled more easily this time, though the weariness was still there. We sat silently for a few minutes, and then my eyes fell on the weapons by my dad’s leg.

  “What are we going to do?”

  He sighed. “It’s been quiet for the past few hours. I’m sure they’re still out there, but I think they’ll leave us alone for a little while. They’re probably still asleep.”

  “Then we should attack now.” I reached for a knife.

  But Dad caught my wrist and pulled me away from the blades. “No, Jonas.”

  “But, why not? If they’re asleep we can take them by surprise and we might have a chance.”

  “They’ll have planned for that. If we provoke them, they’ll just kill more people. We have to stay inside for the next couple days. If no one’s outside where they’re an easy target, the men will get bored and move on to the next village.”

  I frowned at my dad. “How do you know so much about battle strategy?”

  He frowned, too. “I don’t know . . . I don’t really think about it. It just sort of comes to me.”

  I thought of the foggy memory of my dad holding a gun, and what Abby had said last night about it being from the Reality Dreams, from before. I wondered if my dad had been a soldier or a strategist before the world fell apart and we came here. It seemed impossible that we could have whole lives we didn’t remember, but it would explain Dad’s coolness in the face of violence, and his knowledge of battle, strategy, and fortifications.

  Mom broke into my thoughts when she asked me to help with breakfast.

  I helped her while Ellie went to her room to get dressed, and then I switched her places so I could get dressed while she helped Mom.

  I didn’t like being in my room all alone, with the window boarded up and the light blocked out. I dressed as quickly as I could and hurried back to the kitchen.

  Soon breakfast was done, and we gathered on the floor to eat. I was grateful my parents stored a lot of food in the house, and I knew we would have plenty to outlast the criminals.

  When we were done eating and the kitchen had been cleaned (including folding all the blankets), Mom told me and Ellie to go get our school books. Obviously we wouldn’t be able to go to school until the violence was past, and honestly, I’d been looking forward to the long weekend, but I went to get my books anyway.

  Once we were back in the kitchen, Mom had us do our assignments. “You don’t want to fall behind,” was her response to our complaints.

  I was good at keeping up with my homework, and soon I’d run out of things to work on. But Mom wasn’t satisfied. She told me it was high time I got started on my poem for Artistic Literature. Then she had me work on my presentation on Thomas Moche, which was more like leisure, so I didn’t complain anymore.

  Ellie wasn’t quite so diligent when it came to her homework, and it took her a few hours to get caught up. When she was done, Mom told her she could choose something quiet to do for fun.

  Mom had convinced Dad to sleep, and insisted the three of us could keep an eye on the house. She also promised to wake him up if anything happened.

  It was weird, sitting on the kitchen floor on a school day, just reading about my hero; Dad asleep by the fortified door, a pile of makeshift weapons by his side; Ellie hardly saying a word.

  I was relieved when Mom quietly asked me to help her with lunch. I agreed, eager to do something.

  We kept our conversation soft so Dad could sleep, but other than our lowered voices, it almost felt like a normal day, cooking with Mom. She asked about my Counseling session. I told her about Billy, and she vowed to never let me go alone again.

  I didn’t mention Counselor Gerrit’s anger, or that he’d fired the attendant who’d taken me to the colorful room. It wasn’t that I wanted to keep things from my mom, but I didn’t really understand what had happened myself, and I was afraid she would brush it aside, which would be even worse than keeping it from her, so I kept quiet.

  We were eating lunch when Ellie finally spoke. I hadn’t realized just how quiet she’d been until I heard her voice.

  “I hope Leah’s okay.” Ellie dropped her chin into her hands.

  I felt a twinge of guilt.

  “I’m sure she’s fine.” Mom ran a soothing hand over my sister’s braids.

  I swallowed hard and glanced at Ellie. She looked so worried about Leah, I couldn’t say anything about our fight, but seeing her obvious concern for Leah made me so guilty I couldn’t eat another bite.

  Mom must have noticed, because she hurried to change the subject. I was grateful to her, but I also knew she would ask me what was wrong as soon as we were alone.

  Sure enough, as soon as Dad woke up, Mom asked Ellie to sit with him so he wouldn’t eat alone, and then she led me down the hall.

  By unspoken agreement, we didn’t close ourselves in a room—it was too unnerving. Instead we sat at the far end of the hall, outside Mom and Dad’s room, facing each other.

  Mom tucked her legs underneath her and gave me a steady look. “What’s bothering you, Jonas?” Her voice was kind, but held a certain steel I couldn’t resist.

  I dropped my head against the wall behind me and closed my eyes. “It’s Leah.”

  Mom waited patiently for me to continue.

  After a moment I sighed and opened my eyes to look at her. “You know how you told me to be patient with her and be there for her?” She nodded, and I blew out my breath heavily. “Well, yesterday I kind of got mad at her.”

  Mom quirked an eyebrow, but she didn’t say anything.

  “Okay, I got really mad.” I drew my knees up to my chest and rested my chin on them. “I was just having such a bad day, and then she wouldn’t tell me what was bothering her, and I got mad. I . . . said some things. Mean things. She thought I didn’t want to be her friend anymore, and before I could apologize she ran off.”

  This was where it got tricky. I wanted to tell Mom the truth, but I didn’t dare mention the Reality Dreams. I settled for a half truth.

  “After school I tried to apologize. I told her I didn’t mean the things I’d said, but she didn’t believe me.”

  Mom looked thoughtful, but she still didn’t speak.

  I dropped my eyes to my feet. “She’s one of my best friends, and I don’t want to lose her. But I don’t know how to fix things.”

  “Why don’t you tell her?”

  I blinked and raised my head. “What?”

  “Why don’t you tell her what she means to you?” Mom tilted her head, her blue eyes deep. “Let her know how important her friendship is. Maybe she just needs to know she’s needed.”

  My cheeks burned at the thought of saying anything like that to Leah, and I shook my head.

  “Jonas. It sounds like you said some pretty hurtful things. The only way to fix that, to take those things away, is to contradict them. You can’t just apologize—you have to replace the mean words with kind ones. The only way Leah will be able to be sure of your friendship is if you reassure her. She needs to know you care about her and value her friendship if you’re ever going to get past this.”

  The thought of confronting Leah like that scared me to death, but I knew my mom was right. If I wanted Leah’s friendship back, I needed to tell her. I couldn’t just say sorry and expect things to go back to normal. I knew I
needed to tell her I wanted to be her friend. I promised myself I would do just that tonight.

  “That’s why Leah didn’t walk home with us?”

  Ellie stood at the other end of the hall. She looked heartbroken. My heart sank.

  I opened my mouth, though I didn’t know what I was going to say, but before I could say anything more than “Ellie,” she ran into her room and slammed the door.

  I looked at Mom for help, but she shook her head. “Give her time to cool off. She’s pretty attached to Leah, but she’ll understand.”

  Looking at Ellie’s closed door, I felt even worse. Now I’d let down two of my best friends.

  Mom stood and pulled me to my feet. “Come on.” She wrapped a gentle arm around my shoulders. “Let’s see if we can help Dad with anything.”

  I walked with her to the kitchen, though my mind was far away. I was glad when Dad told us there was nothing to do for now, and I could take my book into the hall.

  I sat across from Ellie’s closed door with my book open on my lap, but I didn’t read.

  When Ellie’s door finally opened, I scrambled to my feet.

  She seemed surprised to see me there. She didn’t step out into the hall, just stood there, holding her door and watching me.

  I fingered the spine of my book, unable to look into her red eyes. “I’m sorry, Ellie.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re sorry.” Her voice was steady, and more sad than angry. “Tell Leah.”

  “I will.”

  “No, I mean it, Jonas.” Her red eyes hardened. “If Leah never walks with us again, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

  Under normal circumstances I would’ve laughed at her dramatic word choice—she was nine years old, for crying out loud!—but as it was, I just nodded solemnly.

  Ellie nodded too, and then we walked back to the kitchen; Ellie let me hold her hand as we walked, and when we were back in our corner, she even teased me about my poem.

  The world outside was quiet, but that only made me more nervous, because I didn’t know what was happening. I had a feeling it wasn’t good, though.

  Chapter 15

  I climb to my feet as soon as I wake up, and scan the room for Leah.

  Abby’s reading on her bed and doesn’t even look up when I stand. Rick’s gone—probably with the computer again. On the other side of the room, Stewart’s walking slowly up and down rows of sleeping people, pencil and paper in hand.

  Leah’s on the far side of the room, near the exit. I don’t give myself the chance to get nervous. I still have no idea what I’m going to say to her, but I know if I wait any longer, I’ll lose my nerve completely.

  She doesn’t look up when I get close, but I’m not surprised. After all, she’s been ignoring me for a while now.

  I push my anxiety away and step up beside her. “Leah. We need to talk.” I’m glad my voice sounds calm, reasonable. But she doesn’t even look my way, just moves on to the next body.

  I hesitate and then follow her.

  She doesn’t speak for another minute, then finally she grumbles, “What do you want?”

  “Um . . .” I dip my hands into my pockets to keep myself from fidgeting. “I wanted to apologize for what I said to you. I was just having a bad day. I didn’t mean it. Can’t we be friends again?”

  Leah doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t move on to the next body, either. I take it as a good sign and try again.

  “I don’t have very many friends.” My voice has lost its surety along with its volume, but it’s gained something more important. “It’s hard for me to make friends, and apparently it’s even harder for me to keep them. When I get mad, I say some pretty stupid things.”

  She snorts softly, but the sound is off. I watch her closely for any reaction (though it’s kind of hard, since her face is turned away from me).

  I sigh and drag my hands down my face. “I’m not good at this.”

  Leah turns suddenly. Her eyes are rimmed with red and a few tears have landed on her cheeks.

  Seeing them, I feel even worse. It was easier to be mad at her when I thought she was just as mad at me. But knowing she’s been as miserable as I have makes me feel worse than ever.

  “I’m listening.” Her voice is small, fragile.

  I rock back and forth slightly on my heels, debating. Then I shrug and drop my gaze. “I just wanted to say I care about you, and I’ve missed having you as my friend.”

  I wait anxiously for her reaction, but she doesn’t move or speak, and I glance up curiously.

  Her tears are still falling silently; she looks about ready to break down.

  I toss a look over my shoulder and see—to my huge relief—no one is paying any attention to us.

  Hesitantly, I extend my hand to her. “Friends?”

  Leah lets out a short, quiet sob and throws her arms around me, dropping the list and pencil.

  For a second I’m too stunned to do anything. Then I shake off my surprise and hug her back. I can’t hear her tears, but I feel her trembling, so I hold her a little more tightly.

  When her breaths become more steady I ask, “So, does this mean we can be friends again?”

  I keep my voice low to avoid drawing attention to us. I don’t want to embarrass Leah by exposing her tears, and honestly, I’m pretty sure I don’t want anyone to see me hugging her, either. My face is already warm enough with the way she’s clinging to me, the feel of her head under my chin . . .

  She nods, bringing my attention back to our conversation and my question.

  It’s like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders and a storm cloud has blown away from the sun. I feel a smile on my face. “Good. Because Ellie would’ve had my head if you’d said ‘no’.”

  Leah, with her arms still around me, laughs a little unsteadily. “Ah, Ellie. She’d never fail me.”

  “You know, you could have a ferocious ally in Ellie. She’s really loyal when she wants to be, and I hear her silverware is formidable.”

  Leah laughs again, and this time the sound is easy, normal. She finally unwinds her arms from my shoulders and takes a step back. Her eyes are still red, but the tears have stopped falling. And there’s a smile on her face.

  My smile sobers. “I really am sorry, Leah. I never wanted to stop being your friend. I just get frustrated when you won’t talk to me. I know everything with your mom is hard to deal with, but I want to help. I wish you would tell me what you’re going through and give me a chance to be there for you.”

  Leah wraps her arms around her waist, a protective gesture, and I think she’s going to shut me out again. Then she rubs her foot across the floor, stirring the fine dust there. “I’m looking for my mom.”

  I’m surprised, and I say the first thing that comes to mind. “But you said she died.”

  Leah looks up at me and then away with a shrug. “I know. But . . . What if she did just run off? I mean, she just disappeared that day. No one could prove my dad was a killer, and they never found a body.”

  I hesitate and then push my hands into my pockets again (I can’t seem to keep still). “But, after all this time, do you really think she’s still alive?”

  “I don’t know. But, I have to look, right?”

  It takes me a second to understand she’s giving me a chance to be her friend, like I’d asked. I won’t waste it.

  “Absolutely.”

  Leah finally raises her head and meets my eyes.

  “Do you want help?” I blurt.

  As soon as the words leave my mouth, I feel stupid. I’ve never met her mom, have no idea what she looks like—how helpful will I be in the search?

  But Leah smiles anyway.

  And getting my friend back is as simple as that. I feel dumb for letting it go on as long as it had; but now I’ve got her back, and I’m determined to keep our friendship intact.

  * * *

  Leah and I haven’t had any luck finding her mom, but it doesn’t bother me, and I think Leah’s just glad for the compa
ny.

  We’ve worked our way down three rows of sleepers when we come across the first sleeper who isn’t breathing. At first I think he’s just breathing more shallowly than the others, but when I search for a pulse I can’t find one.

  He’s dead.

  Leah’s trying to stay calm, but I can tell the dead sleeper is really freaking her out.

  “Rick!” I shout. My voice holds more panic than I feel, and I wonder if the fear just hasn’t registered yet. “Stewart!”

  They’re next to us a minute later, and Rick confirms what I’d already figured.

  “He’s dead.”

  I look at Rick as the fear starts to trickle in. “What are we supposed to do?”

  He doesn’t seem to hear me, though. He’s staring at the man in disbelief.

  Stewart gasps. “Curtis!” He’s staring at the dead man with the same look of disbelief on Rick’s face.

  I glance at Leah, but she doesn’t seem to recognize the man any more than I do.

  I look at Rick, Stewart, and the dead man. “Who’s Curtis?”

  They’re both quiet for a long time, and then Rick licks his lips. “Curtis is from Sauri.” His voice is calm despite the fear in his blue eyes. “He . . . was recruited to chase out the criminals.”

  “Wait.” Leah raises her hands in a ‘stop’ motion. “He died in Sauri? How is that possible? I thought we’d decided this was the real world, and Capernia and Sauri were just dreams.”

  “Simulations,” I correct automatically.

  Leah brushes that aside impatiently. “Whatever. My point is, how can he have died there, if it’s not real?”

  No one has an answer, and the silence grows heavier. Then Rick shifts, drawing everyone’s attention.

  His expression is dark. “Great. Now we can die in both worlds. Just what we needed: Another challenge.”

  I try to stay optimistic. “But we’re safe here, right? I mean, the Entities leave this place alone. And back home the criminals should leave soon enough.”

  Rick glances toward the door at the far end of the huge room. “The Entities have left us alone, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they can’t get in. As for the criminals . . . They might leave us alone for a little while, but they’ll still be around. There’s nothing to stop them from coming back.”