by Linda Marr
“Do a lot of people dream walk?”
“I’m the only one at the farmhouse. It’s pretty rare. And I was something of a prodigy,” he said proudly.
“What do you mean?”
“I could visit people over and over right from the start. Most dream walkers can’t control where they go at first.”
“They can’t?”
“Nope. They need time before they learn how to zero in on a specific donor’s dreams,” he grinned at me. “The way I did with you.”
“Why me?”
It took another hand to find out.
“Why you? Jeff told me to keep an eye on you. Because you were close to waking up. And – ” His grin grew even wider. “I liked you.”
He liked me? I liked him, too. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling.
But then it struck me. “All the times I saw you, I was actually just lying in that vat.”
Kavan nodded, “Sure.” He looked uncomfortable now.
I thought I might as well just get to the point. “But my family? You said you see my family? Whose dreams do you enter for that?”
Kavan got up without replying. I watched as he rummaged around the bottom of his dresser drawer. He took out some regular old-fashioned poker chips, “We’re playing for these instead. Talking about your family is off limits.”
“And playing poker in your room right now instead of working isn’t?” My heart was racing thinking about my family.
“And I’m paying for it, aren’t I? Playing with a new rescue is never that fun anyway ‘cause you’re all so perfect. Lucky for me that’ll only last a few more years.”
That stopped me short. “What do you mean?”
“Nobody real is all that perfect, Elle. After you’re out here for a while, you get over it. Which means I’ll be able to beat you soon.”
The thought stunned me. I was not going to get better at anything? I was going to get more and more average? That was what real life meant, I supposed. Not being perfect. Far from it. Losing at poker was one thing. But there was so much else the imperfect world meant. Bombs, death, destruction. At that moment I missed everything about my old life. Not just my family.
Even if my donor life was a cheat, it was mine. And now it was lost to me. But not to Kavan. He could still see it. Had seen my brother, he told me that. And I wasn’t going to let him off the hook now. A lump rose in my throat. “You have to tell me about my family,” I persisted, “please, Kavan. I need to know.”
He hesitated. His face softened for a second, but then he got a grip. He replied gruffly, “There’s nothing more to tell, they miss you, just like I already said.”
After that Kavan clammed up. I could barely get another word out of him. Two more hands and he said it was late, and he had to go to sleep sometime.
“As it is, I’ll probably sack out all day tomorrow, and Jeff is always ticked off about that.”
I wondered if I would ever get the answers I needed. And then another thought pushed that one away. Would he ever ask me out on that date? Maybe next time we played, I’d have to cheat and lose.
***
Despite Kavan’s annoyance at playing poker with new rescues, and his reluctance to answer any more of my questions, we continued to play a few times a week. The stakes remained the same. As much as I liked being with Kavan, I had a lot on my mind. So even though I wanted to get that date, I couldn’t bring myself to cheat and lose; somehow I felt Kavan would know if I did. So he always lost.
And since Jeff still hadn’t made good on his promise to explain things to me, at least I could get some information from Kavan. He would never answer any more questions about my family, but slowly I came to understand how exhausting dream walking was, and the overwhelming sensations he had of being part of another world.
Kavan still insisted that while donors were dreaming, they never had a bad moment. There were lots of things I could say to refute that. One of course was the nightmare that wasn’t really a nightmare that led me to this new life. Another was the accidents I’d kept having. Or what about my mother’s accident and her scar? But what I said was -
“Except for Troy,” I objected. “He had bad moments. What about all the times he was bullied in school?”
Kavan shrugged and dealt out the next hand. “He’s a glitch.”
“A glitch? What does that mean?”
“Your donor lives are perfect, but the computers and the guys programming them aren’t always. Sometimes there are anomalies in the system. And Troy’s one.”
I’d almost forgotten how angry Kavan could make me. Was he making fun of my brother now? I didn’t put up with it from the bullies in Troy’s school yard, and I wouldn’t put up with it now.
“Don’t say that about him.”
“It’s the truth.”
“He’s a little boy. He’s not some malfunctioning program.”
“If you can’t take the truth, don’t ask for it,” Kavan said.
“Fine, I won’t.” I was done.
My brother was not a glitch.
Who knew what else Kavan was wrong about.
CHAPTER EIGHT
After Kavan called my brother a glitch, I needed a little space from him. He probably didn’t even notice, since he was off dream walking anyway. His comment made me wonder why I trusted him as much as I did, why I had ever liked the idea of going out on a date. Just because I’d seen him in my old life, and I liked him then, that didn’t necessarily mean I could trust him now.
But who should I trust? Blair helped me walk again, Charles rescued me. There I said it, rescued me, not kidnaped me. Yet I didn’t really know what they thought of me, deep down. I wasn’t even sure how I felt about them. What did I really know about any of these people? For that matter what did I know about this place or my new life in it? Maybe the first step to understanding and trusting anyone was finding out more about this world.
I started going out to the television room every night after dinner instead of hanging out with Kavan. A few other people joined me sometimes, watching the news like it was their favorite TV series, and they were hooked on seeing the next plot twist.
In this case, the twists were never anything good. Sometimes Jeff watched, too, his green eyes intense, and his expression grim. It seemed like he was avoiding me, he’d leave before I did. I decided he’d never talk with me like he’d promised. Honestly, I was just as glad. I still felt I had to be on my best behavior around him after what happened with Kavan. I could find out what I needed to know on my own.
On the news, there were almost always bombings; if I thought it was terrifying from a distance, the never ending scenes of broken buildings and the wounded in close up on TV was far worse. And then there were the long-winded political discussions that went nowhere, and just led to more violence.
One night, there was footage of a reporter in front of a secured government building, and just seeing the building started a low buzz of conversation in the TV room.
“You can’t tell it to look at it, but that’s one of the labs for the universal donor program,” Jeff said to me. It was the first time he’d talked to me directly since that night outside Kavan’s room.
So this was a place like the one where I’d been kept. I glanced at Jeff. His voice had an edge to it that I’d never heard before, even when he was angry at me. He was holding it in, but I could tell by the look on his face it made him furious that such a place even existed. I knew how he felt.
All the same, I peered closer. I had to know what it looked like, the place I’d really come from. It was just an average building, no different from countless others. A bomb had recently exploded and shattered the front of it. People in white lab coats were pouring out. But the people like me held in vats, they couldn’t have escaped in time. I shuddered.
On screen a reporter was interviewing a policeman, and then - a known activist was talking about the bombing, like he understood why it had happened. His picture flashed on the screen. He was older than m
ost of the people at the farmhouse, gray haired and worn, yet with a commanding presence. And he looked startlingly familiar. I leaned closer to the screen. I knew who he was.
“That’s Jeremiah Bell,” I exclaimed.
Jeff turned to look at me, surprised. “How do you know him?”
“He was in my other life.”
“That’s right, he was another universal donor.”
“I can’t believe he’s here. We used to call him crazy old Mr. Bell.” I couldn’t stop staring at the screen.
“Well nobody thinks he’s crazy here. He appeared out of the blue shortly after we rescued you. And he’s already started his own movement. Unlike us he doesn’t shy away from the spotlight.”
More images of Bell filled the screen. Like so many of the older rescues, he was in a wheelchair now that he was out of the donor world.
“Jeremiah believes the way to stop the donor program is to intimidate those who support it,” Jeff’s brow furrowed. “He doesn’t care who he hurts to accomplish that. You don’t fight violence with more of the same.”
I could hardly listen to what Jeff was saying. Crazy old Mr. Bell. Always warning us that the world was dissolving. He knew something was wrong with his donor life back then.
I watched him talking about the need for change. He denied he had anything to do with the bombing. “I would never stand for people getting hurt. Too many have been hurt already. It stops here.”
He was surprisingly charismatic. The camera zoomed in on him as if the operator couldn’t help being drawn to him. His eyes burned, his words were almost hypnotic. It wasn’t so much what he said as how he said it.
It was as if his craziness from his old life had turned into a compelling vision in this one. He certainly grabbed me.
Maybe his donor life made him crazy. Now, what he was saying about ending the violence and abuse was absolutely sane.
And in a way he was right all along, all that stuff he used to shout about the world ending. The world I knew had dissolved.
***
I couldn’t stop thinking about Jeremiah, and the destruction everywhere. No matter how much I watched, I never got used to it. Seeing the real world frightened me. I looked forward to escaping from it, and the best way to do that was falling asleep. But no matter how much I wanted the comfort of dreaming about my own family, what I saw in my dreams was Mattie’s.
Tonight, I was in their garage. Mattie’s dad was inflating a soccer ball. I remembered my own soccer playing, how much I liked kicking the ball around with my dad.
For one golden moment in my dream, I flashed to an image of my own father. He was packing away my soccer trophies, my team uniform. What kind of dream was this? I felt overwhelmed.
But just as quickly I was back with Mattie’s family. Had I really seen my dad at all? Now I was with Mattie and his parents at his sister’s soccer game.
Her mom was shouting. “Go, Jessica!”
“Way to go, Jess,” her dad echoed as Jessica stole the ball from the other side.
Jessica’s team was passing the ball back and forth, running down the field, aiming for the opposing team’s goal. A banner stretched the length of the field, announcing the Mayor’s Cup Finals. Jessica followed closely, guarding the ball. At last she had a chance for a clear shot. I’d been in the same situation once at the Finals. All the players jostling, everyone going for that ball. Right as the other team’s forward went for it, Jessica dove in, a good, swift move, except she wasn’t paying attention to one of the other team’s defenders - the two of them slammed together, and Jessica dropped like a stone.
I woke abruptly, and sat up in bed, panting. The same exact thing had happened to me. One of my “accidents.” It was like dreaming my own life but with a different family that didn’t include me. What was happening to me now? I was bathed in sweat, I had to get up and change my nightgown. It took me a long time to go back to sleep.
***
My dream must’ve been caused by what I’d seen on TV the night before. Jeremiah Bell, the donor center. I didn’t want to watch anymore, but I felt like I needed to. I finished my kitchen duties and was heading for the television room once again, when Kavan slipped up beside me.
“Still mad at me?” he asked.
I realized I wasn’t. I’d almost forgotten how furious I’d been when he called Troy a glitch. Right then, the only thing on my mind was my dream. I couldn’t shake it. I decided if anyone might understand how I was feeling, it was Kavan.
“Mad, about what?” I tried to sound like it was all a joke.
He smiled that winning smile, and once again, I was hooked.
“Up for some more poker then?”
I nodded and followed him to his room. It was funny but I just wanted to be with him.
As he got out the cards and started shuffling them, I told him about my dream. About the family, and how I’d seen them several times before. How odd and weighted I felt in the morning after the dreams, like my skin was going to explode. How the scene I’d dreamt last night was almost identical to something that had happened to me. And how when I woke myself, I was afraid.
He stopped with the cards clenched in his hand.
“You’ve been dreaming about this same family for weeks?” he asked.
“So what?” I said. He was missing the point. That I’d dreamt something I’d actually experienced but other people were experiencing it, not me. Was he really that dense?
“The exact same family?” Kavan persisted.
“Yes. The same family. But you’re not –”
He cut me off. “Elle. I think you’re a dream walker.”
“What are you talking about?”
“That’s exactly how it feels. You see the same people. You can visit them over and over. You enter their lives. Think about it. How many times does that happen in an ordinary dream?”
The only recurring dream I’d ever had before was my nightmare of the donor center – which turned out to be my real life. My other life. This life. But visiting Mattie’s family wasn’t the same thing. It wasn’t one scene played out over and over. I saw them doing different things, at different times. I told him that.
“Yes, that’s what happens,” Kavan said. “I saw you lots of different places, remember? A dream walker enters the donors’ lives.”
“But… I could see you,” I objected. “This family didn’t know I was there.”
“Dream walkers can only be seen after they get more experienced,” Kavan brushed off my protests. “No, I’m sure you’re a dream walker.”
He had to be wrong. It wasn’t that long ago when I was seeing Kavan in my dreams in my other life, the one that wasn’t a real life at all. And now I was dream walking myself? I shook my head as if to clear it.
“But what about that soccer game? It was exactly the same as mine,” I persisted.
“It’s probably another computer glitch,” Kavan shrugged.
Another glitch. Was that Kavan’s standard answer to everything?
“Is that what you always say? Something’s a little different so it’s a glitch?”
“There’s only so many invented donor lives to go around and there are a lot of donors, Elle. They sometimes repeat. Last night, you just caught one of those times.”
I just caught someone having the same life I had?
“That’s - creepy,” I said. It was a lot more than that.
Kavan just shrugged again. “Hey, once you get good at dream walking, it’ll be great,” he said cheerfully. “And I’ll be there to help you out, show you the ropes so you don’t get lost.”
“Like a guide?”
“Sure. You need one to start. It might as well be me. It’s not as simple as just going to sleep. You’d be all over the place. Dream walking is hard to control.”
“Okay,” I said. I couldn’t quite get my head around the whole concept of dream walking, and now Kavan was planning to be my partner. Like it was a dream walking date.
“It’s kind of in
credible that you can find this family the way you do. You’re lucky, you could be popping in and out of a whole bunch of families lives.”
I thought about seeing Troy several nights ago, and then last night the quick image of my father putting away my soccer gear. Had I really been there, in their lives? My stomach tightened. Could I get back there again?
“So I could visit my family then, in my dreams?”
“Probably not without a lot more practice,” Kavan said. “Besides, visiting your own family isn’t ever a good idea.”
“Why?”
But before he could answer me Charles burst in. He didn’t seem at all surprised to see me in Kavan’s room, or maybe he didn’t care.
“You guys come with me, right now,” he said urgently.
“What’s going on?” Kavan asked.
“The police want to question us.”
The police? Charles kept talking softly to me as we hurried down the hall.
“Jeff is your dad. Kavan is your brother. If the police ask you, that’s what you tell them.”
The police? I didn’t want to tell them anything. What if I said something wrong? I glanced over at Kavan. He seemed perfectly calm, as if he’d been through this before. He probably had.
“This is a farming co-op, you’re home schooled. And remember, only the people you’ll see in the living room live with us, Elle,” Charles went on.
“Just follow my lead,” Kavan said. “Sis.”
Several of the people I worked with in the kitchen were sitting on the sofa. Charles joined Blair, who was standing near the fireplace. Jeff was talking to a man I guessed was a detective. He was wearing a suit with a badge pinned to his jacket. Uniformed policemen were guarding the front door.
“So you’re permitted to grow hydroponic vegetables in those greenhouses, as well as farming the open fields?” the detective asked Jeff.
“That’s right,” Jeff nodded.
“Any members of this co-op in wheelchairs?”
“How would they work a farm?”
“Think we’re in trouble?” I hissed at Kavan. He shook his head for me to be quiet.
“He knows squat,” he whispered.