by K M Frost
Leah sighs. “And they didn’t believe you.”
“They thought I was playing around, and then they asked if the Counseling Center had a specialist for ‘this kind of thing’.” I try to keep the bitterness and hurt out of my voice, but I must not do a very good job, because Leah winces sympathetically. “I couldn’t help myself. I told them what I found out about Counselor Gerrit and the whole system.”
“They didn’t believe you, did they?”
I shake my head. “I told them I wasn’t going to go back again, and they completely lost it. They sent me to my room and wouldn’t even listen to me.”
Leah looks at the floor, too, all of her earlier energy gone. “I’m sorry, Jonas. I didn’t think you were serious about telling them. If I’d known you were going to go through with it, I would’ve tried to help.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered.” I push away from the bed and move to the next sleeper, but I don’t even look at the face. “They didn’t even believe me. They wouldn’t have cared what you said . . .”
She follows me, relentless. “Then I would’ve tried to help you figure out your argument or something. If we’d had a little longer to plan—”
“I know!” I push my fingers through my hair with an exasperated groan. “It was stupid. But I have no idea when they’ll wake up, and I don’t want them to wake up scared.”
“I understand, Jonas.” Leah’s voice is a whisper, the hurt on her face painfully clear. “I wasn’t trying to criticize you. I just wish things had gone better.”
She slides past me and continues down the aisle, not bothering to look at the sleepers she passes.
Now I feel even worse. I yelled at my family and Leah. And none of them deserved it.
The world is spinning out of control and I feel like it’s my job to set things straight. I hate feeling helpless, but I hate this guilt even more.
“Leah!”
She doesn’t turn.
I almost go after her, but I decide maybe she needs some time alone. Besides, I’m so emotionally unstable right now, I would probably just make things worse.
Instead, I make my way over to the waking. Howard is watching over them, and he smiles when he sees me.
I force a smile of my own, for his benefit. “How did things go today?”
“Good. We had ten more people wake up after you kids fell asleep. Most of them are getting over the shock alright, though they’re still having trouble believing this is real. Heck, I’m having the same problem.”
I stiffen. “I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true. This is the real world.”
Howard’s eyes crinkle with amusement. “Whoa, son. No need to get defensive about it. I believe you. It’s just hard to get used to the idea is all.”
I sigh. “Sorry. I had a bad day.”
He nods sympathetically, then asks, “Would you like to meet them?”
I hesitate, then nod.
Howard leads me to the group of new arrivals and starts the introductions. There’s a man in his mid-thirties named Frank who seems to be handling the shock the best. Clara, a woman in her sixties, isn’t doing as well, though she’s not hysterical like some of the most recent arrivals.
Howard’s introducing a little girl about Ellie’s age when there’s a scream.
We all look toward the sound, though it’s hard to pinpoint as it echoes around the vast room.
There’s an awful gurgling in the distance, like someone choking, and then everything goes quiet.
The silence is complete, as even the waking are still now. My eyes search the Clinic frantically, but everyone looks as shocked as I am.
Finally, I see a woman in her fifties standing beside a bed with her hands clapped over her mouth and eyes wide with shock and horror. Somehow I know she’s the one who screamed.
I push past the group of stationary people in my way and hurry to the woman’s side. She’s vaguely familiar—I think her name is Edith . . .
“What happened?” I ask anxiously.
She doesn’t answer, acts like I didn’t make a sound.
I look at the sleeper beside us. My stomach clenches with fear and nausea when I see the woman’s face.
Nothing like the peaceful mask the other sleepers wear, her eyes are open wide and her mouth is drooping and covered with a terrible foam.
But even more unsettling than her tortured expression is the fact I know this woman. It’s Ms. Erikson, my mom’s friend from Capernia.
Distantly I register other people gathering around, but I can’t look away from Ms. Erikson’s face, frozen in fear and pain.
Though I already know the truth, it still shakes me to the core when Rick announces: “She’s dead.”
Chapter 25
Howard tries to keep the others calm, but I can see he’s shaken by what happened, too.
We move Ms. Erikson’s body to a storage room for the time being, until we figure out why she died. All the other deaths have been silent. Ms. Erickon’s death was anything but.
Then we Reality Dreamers gather in the computer room with Edith and ask her to tell us what happened.
“I was walking down the aisle. That woman gasped—it scared me to death!” She slaps her hands over her mouth, mortified. “I didn’t mean . . .”
Rick ignores her word choice and urges her to continue.
Edith swallows with difficulty and lowers her hands to her chest, clasping them over her heart. “I was trying to explain things to her—about this being the real world and all. But then her eyes got really wide, and she started making that awful noise . . .” The old woman shudders. “She was shaking and jerking, and then there was that foam . . . She looked so scared . . .”
Rick nods, dropping his arms to his sides. “Thanks, Edith.”
She practically runs from the room, and the silence that follows is heavy. I can barely hear it past the rushing of blood in my ears, though. I can’t erase Ms. Erikson’s dead face from my mind, and my head is so full of what happened, I can’t process anything else.
“So what killed her?” Leah’s low voice is loud in the stillness.
Rick shakes his head. “I have no idea. I mean, some of the sleeping have died, but not like this. No one’s even coughed, let alone had a seizure.”
“You knew her, didn’t you, Jonas?” Leah looks at me closely, her expression guarded.
“Yeah. She’s a friend of my mom’s, Ms. Erikson.” I try to remember her first name. Cleo . . . Fiona . . . I don’t remember, and I feel awful. “She doesn’t have any family, and not many friends. She doesn’t get out much, because she’s always sick.”
Rick frowns. “She was sick a lot?”
I nod; I don’t have energy for anything else.
Rick’s frown turns thoughtful. “What if that has something to do with it?”
Leah asks the question on my mind. “What do you mean?”
“Maybe she died because she was sick.”
I get the feeling he’s groping for an explanation.
Rick starts pacing. “Maybe she was sick when she went into the simulation, and it somehow kept the disease at bay. But when she woke up, it could finish its work.”
I vaguely register a voice shouting from somewhere in the Clinic, but I can’t make sense of the words. And everyone else is entirely focused on the issue at hand, so it’s easy to block out the sound.
“Or maybe she died from waking up,” Stew says. He looks tiny and terrified, and I wish I could comfort him. “What if more people die?” He’s becoming frantic.
Leah grabs his shoulders and crouches to look him in the eye. “Stew. No one else died when they woke up. This doesn’t mean waking up kills people. Jonas said the lady was sick already—it was a special case. Your parents will be fine.”
I want to smack my forehead. Of course he’s worried about his family. He just saw a woman wake up and die in a spasm. He must think this was only the first incident, and more people are bound to die the same way.
Stewart stil
l looks upset, but before we can say anything else to reassure him, Howard pokes his head into the room.
He looks sheepish and I realize he’s nervous about interrupting, which is ridiculous to me—I mean, we’re a bunch of kids, and he’s got to be almost fifty.
“There’s a girl out here who says she needs to talk to you. All of you.”
I remember the shout I heard earlier—it must have been Abby. I wonder what she wants to tell us. I guess the others are eager for a change of topic too, because we all hurry from the room without another word.
Abby’s sitting on her bed like always, and there are mounds of books around her, also like always. But she’s completely ignoring the books, watching us anxiously, not a trace of her usual enthusiasm and excitement on her face.
“There you are!” She’s surprisingly tense.
“What is it?” Rick’s more impatient than worried. But I know Abby, and the only other time I’d seen her look so worried, we were all about to die.
Howard hesitates beside us, but we all know it’s not a good idea for him to hear this conversation. There’s already enough panic in this place, and whatever Abby has to tell us can’t be good.
Rick turns to Howard before Abby says anything. “Howard, can you keep an eye on the others? Just for a minute.”
Howard’s mouth turns down at the corners, maybe in disappointment, but he nods and leaves us alone.
Abby shifts a particularly large and old book on her lap. “I’ve been reading.”
Leah raises an eyebrow. “We know.”
Abby ignores the muttered comment and looks at us intensely. “We know this world was in trouble. The whole reason they created the simulation was to protect these people from something, but we don’t know what that something was. Or, we didn’t know.”
My eyes widen. “You know what happened?”
Abby runs her fingers over the page of the book in her lap. “I’ve read a lot of accounts that mention a problem, infected people, but I’ve never been able to figure out just what they were talking about. Then I found this book. It’s the oldest I’ve come across so far. I think the reason we haven’t read anywhere what actually caused the trouble is because it was old news by the time these other accounts were written.”
Rick crosses his arms. “Get to the point.”
Abby throws him an irritated look, but she obeys. “I found this book and started reading things about a parasite.”
I’m not the only one who frowns.
Leah blinks. “A pair of what?”
Some of Abby’s old excitement comes back, and she sits forward eagerly. “I didn’t understand it at first either, but then I looked up the word in the dictionary. It says a parasite is something that lives inside another living thing to survive. It drains energy or nourishment from the other living thing, called the host.”
Rick still seems impatient. “So . . . what does that have to do with anything?”
Abby gives us all an exasperated look. “Don’t you get it? That’s why they made the simulation—that’s why they did everything.”
“Wait.” Leah raises a hand, perplexed. “You’re saying there was something living inside these people, and that’s why they made the simulation?”
“Parasites don’t just live inside you. They sap your energy in order to survive.”
A shock runs through my body. “They were killing them? The parasites were killing these people?”
Abby nods grimly.
Rick frowns, finally showing some interest. “But why put them to sleep?”
“I’m not completely clear on that.” Abby shifts her legs under the huge book. “From what I’ve been able to tell, the parasites were infecting and then killing people—absorbing their energy. But for some reason, the parasites couldn’t work while the host was asleep. When the people realized they couldn’t kill the parasites in time, they decided to put everyone inside the simulation until things were safe again.”
Rick grunts. “But things didn’t get better. There are Entities all over the place, and no one who was awake knew what was going on.”
Abby grimaces. “I know. I think all the people who stayed awake died. It’s the only thing that makes sense. They weren’t able to kill the parasites, and they ran out of time.”
“So, what does this mean for us?” I ask, though I’m not sure I want to know.
Abby shrugs helplessly. “I honestly don’t know. I thought we were fine, but after that woman died . . . I’m not sure of anything.”
My brain is sluggish, and it takes me a second to digest her words. “You mean . . . You think Ms. Erickson was infected with one of these . . . parasites, and that’s why she died?”
Abby doesn’t agree, but she doesn’t disagree either, and a dark weight settles on my chest.
Leah touches my arm softly. “Jonas. You said yourself she was sick in Capernia.”
“So?”
Leah ignores my defensive tone. “Maybe that was a side-effect of the parasite.”
I shake my head impatiently. “But if that were true, the parasite would have to be here.”
No one disagrees.
“But that means . . .” I don’t finish my thought. I don’t have to. I can see in my friends’ faces that they’ve already realized what I’m too afraid to admit.
Abby speaks carefully, like she’s afraid my mind will snap if the truth dawns too quickly. “They never were able to kill the parasites, Jonas. If they didn’t kill them, it would only make sense they’re still here.”
I glance over my shoulder, half expecting to see a hideous creature standing behind me, ready to consume us all. Of course there’s nothing there, but I don’t feel any better.
Abby must’ve seen my action, because she looks at me sympathetically. “From what I’ve read, I don’t think you can see the parasites, Jonas. They’re either too small, or they just can’t be seen by the human eye.”
I suddenly regret leaving my gun by the blankets in the middle of the room. “But how are we supposed to fight something if we can’t see it?”
“You can’t fight the parasites, Jonas.” Abby sounds like she’s talking to a two year old. “Even the people who understood what was happening couldn’t kill them. We don’t have a chance.”
“What are we supposed to do then?” I’m angry and very, very scared.
Abby doesn’t have an answer.
All around is silence. We’re all too stunned to say anything. Even the waking are quiet.
I try not to think about them—about all the people waking up, people we’ve sentenced to death. If only we had known what waking them up would mean . . .
I never should have let Rick touch that computer.
Suddenly Rick gasps. The sound is soft, but in this stillness it makes me jump.
“Abby,” he says urgently. “What did you say the parasites consume?”
“The books say they would take a host and drain the energy and nourishment from it, killing the host in order to survive.”
“Energy . . .” Rick mutters to himself, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. Then his eyes widen. He swears sharply and runs back to the computer room.
Leah, Abby, and Stewart look just as surprised and confused as I am. But I’m determined to get at least one answer.
I run after him. Many curious eyes follow me, but I ignore them. I hope Howard will be able to keep everyone under control.
Across the Clinic in the computer room, Rick is hunched over the keyboard. I think he must have been typing, but he’s stopped by the time I arrive. He’s staring at the middle box, but I can’t make any sense out of the jumble of letters there.
Instead, I look at Rick.
Leah bursts through the door, breathing hard and looking scared. “Rick, what is it?”
Rick straightens, but doesn’t turn around. “When I shut down the simulation there was a message here.” He points to the middle box. “It said support systems were enabled, but I didn’t really get what that meant.�
��
“But now you do?” I ask uncertainly.
Rick takes a deep breath, his eyes still fixed on the display. “While the simulation was on, the computer was operating at a low level—almost like it was asleep too. But when I turned off the simulation and people started to wake up, the computer woke up, too.”
Leah shrugs. “So?”
Rick hangs his head, then finally turns around. His expression is grim and guilt-ridden. “The computer uses energy. The parasites need energy to survive. And from what I’ve seen, I doubt this world has any other working computers. Which makes this the only place in the world using energy.”
I wait for the words to sink in, and when they do, my heart drops through the floor. “We’re like a bonfire in the middle of the night.”
Rick nods.
Leah waves her hands frantically. “Well, turn it off then!”
“I’ve tired.” Rick rubs his face in frustration. “It’s like it can’t be turned all the way off again—it can’t ever go back to sleep.”
Stewart’s voice squeaks in the silence. “But if it’s like a bonfire, won’t the parasites be able to find us?”
Rick’s eyes are bleak. “Chances are, they’re already on their way.”
Sneak Peek at “Waking Hour”
book 3 of The Reality Dreamers Trilogy
Chapter 1
I was suffocating.
A small group of musicians near the front of the church played soft, solemn music; no one spoke above a respectful whisper as they shuffled into the room.
I fidgeted in my suit and wished for the hundredth time my tie wasn’t so tight. Farther down the pew, Dad held Ellie on his lap, even though she was nine and much too old for that. He whispered softly to her, probably trying to explain what was happening.
Ms. Erikson passed away, and we’re here to pay tribute to her . . .