IN YOUR DREAMS (Mark Appleton #3)

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IN YOUR DREAMS (Mark Appleton #3) Page 7

by Patterson, Aaron


  “You sure you want all this stuff?” The man on the other end said.

  “Yes, I am a survivalist, and I am in the stocking mode of my year. Just be here on time.”

  “Okay… whatever you say.”

  Mooch hung up and went back to his computer. Next was the Transportation Department. He opened a fresh can of Dr Pepper and took a sip. It was going to be fun to see the world burn.

  ***

  What does it feel like to travel in between dimensions or to stop time? We as a human race can only detect and study 4 percent of all matter and energy. Dark Energy and the invisible take up the other 96 percent, about which we are clueless. But we understand that what lies beyond our sight and our own understanding is, in essence, more real then what we can see, feel, taste, and hear.

  All at once for me, the ideas of time travel, teleportation, telekinesis, and other phenomena were not just written in books or played out on the big screen. What if they are real? It is believed that there are eleven to twenty-two other dimensions, and maybe more. What if the world we know and love is not even real compared to the unseen. What if the invisible look at us with wonder at our ignorance and pride? Could we even learn beyond our own mental walls? We are imprisoned by the very ideas that make us free.

  All these thoughts came crashing through my thick head as I touched Kreios’s hand. He closed his eyes, and as the world stopped, I looked at the frozen man with his newspaper, and the door to the kitchen had stopped mid-swing.

  The café seemed to age, and as I watched, the floor changed and the color of the walls went from a light blue to a bright red. The barstools and counter that wrapped around morphed into a modern bar top that curved to make a U-shape.

  I blinked, and when I opened my eyes, I was no longer in the café but standing in someone’s home. Kreios stood next to me, and without a word, he walked to the fireplace and picked up a picture frame. I followed, still in a fog, as I tried to figure out what was happening to me.

  “Mark, this house is a thin place; the café is also a thin place, and somehow the worlds and the fabric that holds them together are torn and about to break down altogether.” He handed me the photograph, and I looked into my own eyes.

  It was a picture of me. I was standing in front of a big oak tree, and the tall green grass behind me gave the photo warmth. Next to me, holding my hand, was a woman. Not K, but someone else. Sitting in the grass at our feet was a little boy. He was two, maybe three years old, and his blond hair stuck up in the same weird way mine did.

  My heart beat faster, and all of the sudden, my mouth was dry. I licked my lips, tore my focus from the photograph, and tried to ask Kreios a question. There was only one real question, but all that came out of my mouth was a grunt. I looked back down to the photo, and Kreios put his hand on my shoulder.

  “What you must be thinking… I know that you are used to this kind of thing, but somehow this particular place is different.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Try not to think too hard about it. Things will go much better if you just go with it and try to learn what you must. We all have troubles and trials in our lives. Yours are just—well… different.”

  I cleared my throat and managed a question. “When is this place? Is it real or a glimpse?”

  Kreios shook his head. “I can’t tell you that. You need to find the truth, and you need to do it fast. Our world depends on you, and I am not going to let you destroy everything because of your ignorance.” He had a hint of anger laced in his voice. I turned when I heard someone come in from the next room.

  It was my kitchen; I knew it was even though this house was new to me. Yet at the same time, it was familiar. How could it feel so new and old at the same time? And what was he talking about, saying that this was a thin place? I could not deny that, at times, this life felt paper-thin, but that was just a way of describing how fake some things felt.

  “Mark… home so soon? You look tired, are you okay?” A thin, dark haired woman reminded me of someone I used to know, but her name escaped me. I was in shock, or maybe I wasn’t letting my mind open up to this reality.

  “I… uh—I had—” I stuttered and looked back to Kreios, but to my surprise, he was gone. Vanished as if I had dreamed him up. Now as I stood looking at this woman who seemed to know me, I felt love toward her and wondered how I ended up here.

  The woman took my hand in hers and pulled me close as she kissed me. I could feel my face flush; the feeling of passion and the need to be loved and held by this person flooded my body and soul. “I’m not complaining—I was hoping you would come home early. I missed you.”

  Was she aware of my glimpses? Had I been gone for a long time? I held her at arm’s length and looked into her eyes, and in a half second, the memories of my other life took over—my job with the WJA, the bombing, my tears at K and Sam’s death, revenge, and the wedding that followed a year-and-a-half later. The birth of my son… Samson—we named him Samson.

  I felt hot tears fill my eyes as the emotions of who was standing in front of me hit me for the first time. It was Maria, sweet Maria. She helped me to get over K and loved me for who I was in spite of my pain and shortcomings. How could I have ever forgotten her?

  The old memories still were there, but these new ones were so much stronger. They were so full and powerful that the idea of K and Sam in my other life seemed as if it was all a dream. But in the background, I knew that they were not a dream, this was the dream. Kreios had somehow sent me here to show me something. But what?

  “Maria,” Just saying her name sent a shiver up my spine. “I missed you, too.” Her eyes lit up, and the spark of love I had for her exploded in my heart. Had I loved her all along? Even with K being alive and finding out that my life with Maria was just a dream did not take away all my feelings for her. It was real to me, and how I ever forgot her was beyond me.

  “I love you, Mark, more then you will ever know.” She kissed me again, and this time, I took her in my arms and drank in her love. Maria, our conversations in the middle of the night, long walks, and just holding her and smelling her hair consumed my mind. Flashes of memories took over as I kissed her.

  My head hurt, and my lower back ached as I began to think of K and Sam. They were at home, and now as I held Maria, guilt hit me. How could I love two women at the same time? One was real, and one was just in my dreams.

  But as soon as the guilt began to creep up in my heart, I remembered all the memories of my life with Maria. We had a child, a boy. How could I have this memory of a life with her and it be a dream? I had to test it and find out if this was the real world, or one in my head. If this was real, then my wife and daughter were dead, and I was a father of a son. But if not, I was a cheating husband, even if just in my dreams.

  CHAPTER 10

  KREIOS OPENED HIS EYES and took the hot cup of coffee from across the table. He could smell the roast, the aroma of the beans.

  His head pounded as the call of the book accosted his nerves and senses. It was close, maybe even in this very café. He could feel it. As he finished Mark’s coffee, he watched the older woman come up to his table and give him a quizzical look.

  “Your friend had to go?” She looked toward the door and then back at him.

  “Yes, he had somewhere to be.” Picking up her thoughts, he lowered his eyebrows and took her hand. She started to pull away, but as soon as she saw his dark eyes begin to lighten and then glow with bright light, she relaxed.

  “You have something that belongs to me.” His voice was low and strong.

  Shaking her head, she paused with a knowing look, and then nodded her head up and down as she changed her mind. “I think I do… yes, the book… it’s yours. Take it, I am scared of it. It’s not of this world, am I right?” Her hand shook a little and Kreios smiled.

  “You are right, my sweet child. It is a personal book, and I would love to have it returned to me. I have been searching for a long time, and knowing that it will soon be home and that suc
h a wonderful woman has taken care of it all this time brings comfort to my soul.”

  The face of the old woman beamed with the complement. She blushed a deep shade of red, and Kreios stood up, still holding her hand. Leading her back to the kitchen, he released her and watched with interest as she took a painting off the wall in her office and worked the combination on a wall safe.

  “Someone left it here last week. I was keeping it for them, and I thought your friend might know who it belonged to. The pretty woman who was with this other bald man—Kirk, I think his name was—left it here. Then there was that explosion across the street, and the virus scare.” She blubbered on. Kreios knew that she was nervous.

  “This whole world is going to hell. I knew this book was special the moment I laid my eyes on it.” Her voice softened as she took it out and held it close to her chest. “I knew with all the excitement, it was just overlooked, but they would have come back for it eventually.” She eyed him.

  “This is yours. I can feel it somehow, as if it wants to be with you. Is that crazy?” She hugged the book tighter and stepped toward him as if he were a principal and she was just a student looking for approval.

  “I thank you for keeping it safe. You will be looked after, I will make sure of it. May I?” Kreios held out his hand, and she handed him the book. A line of regret formed in her forehead. Kreios took the book and looked down at it, running a finger over the rough, leather cover.

  “Well—” The old woman breathed in a sigh of relief and put her hands on her hips. “Glad that is over… I was afraid of what it might do if I kept it any longer.” Her face gave away to a large grin.

  Kreios smiled at her, and the look this time did not seem odd for his face but was true and natural. This book, the return of it, made him happy. “I am in your debt.”

  “Think nothing of it, was the least I could do. Just don’t lose it again, I have a feeling that thing in the wrong hands could do something terrible.” She marched back out of the office and ushered Kreios out of the kitchen. “Thank you for taking it off my hands. I wanted to keep it but didn’t want to at the same time… you know what I mean?”

  “I do. It has a way of holding the keeper in a trance. Much longer, and I may have had to take it from you by force.” The old woman nodded as if she understood. Kreios thanked her again and left the café.

  Mission one accomplished. Now to deal with Mark. What must he be thinking? Kreios turned down an alley behind the café. The light from the sun was blocked by concrete and brick, so even in the daytime the alley was dark and gloomy. A dumpster and garbage rotting gave it a rank smell, but none of this bothered Kreios. He had his book back, and that was all that mattered.

  Finding a spot to sit, Kreios looked around and made sure that he was alone. It seemed that even the street people were in hiding these days. The alley was empty, so he unlatched the metal buckles and opened the book to somewhere in the center. The page was blank, like all the other pages, but as soon as Kreios touched the parchment with his fingers, words appeared in a scrawling script. They glowed in the dim light, and Kreios felt his heart jump in his chest.

  ***

  The room felt cool as the raised floor cooled from below and made a circular motion throughout the room in order to keep the machines from overheating. Air moved through the small holes in each floor tile and went up and into the air ducts above and back around again.

  Kirk wondered why the police had not discovered this room yet. Maybe they thought everything Taras owned was on the floor he lived in. This didn’t surprise Kirk in the least. The NYPD were overworked, and most of the time it was a battle between them and the Feds. Their little turf war seemed more important than actual police work.

  At the far end of the room, three, tall coolers stared at Kirk as if to warn him not to enter. Leaving was not an option, so Kirk took hold of a cold, silver handle and pulled. The middle cooler hissed as the door opened with reluctance. Freezing air washed into the room, and a fog rolled along the floor like some kind of monster.

  Kirk flipped the light switch mounted on the outside of the cooler, and a single bulb flickered and came on.

  “Here goes nothing.”

  Floor-to-ceiling racks took up the left and the right side of the cooler. The room was ten feet tall and twenty feet long. Kirk looked up to find that the room had three light bulbs. The other two were burnt out.

  Kirk could feel the freezing air begin to work its way through his clothes, and at the far end of the room, an air conditioning unit kicked on and blasted more chilled air into the cooler. Taking a few steps into the room, Kirk scanned the racks, which were filled with canisters that looked like small, silver thermoses. He picked up the nearest one and read the label.

  The writing was in Russian, or what looked like Russian to Kirk. He saw the clear biohazard symbol and picked up another one and saw that it was the same. How am I supposed to find the antidote if they are all in Russian?

  Turning to the rack on the left, he took a canister and saw that this one was in French. He knew the look and recognized a word. The word, “warning” wasn’t hard to recognize no matter what language it was written in.

  The magnitude of what Kirk was seeing hit him. This was his storehouse, his chemical warfare stockpile. How many countries had he had this stuff made in? Looking down the rows of coolers, he wondered if the other two were the same.

  Leaving the middle cooler, Kirk opened the door to the cooler on the far right. This one looked the same, racks filled with canisters, but most of these were labeled in some Middle Eastern dialect.

  Cooler number three was locked. Kirk went into the hall, grabbed the fire extinguisher, and bashed the handle until it fell off with a clatter. He smiled and pulled the cooler door open. This one was different, not different in size or shape, but in the contents. Frozen bodies hung from large hooks. Their faces, stilled and cold, stared at him.

  Kirk took a step backward and held his breath. No stench lingered because of the frozen climate. He breathed in and took a closer look.

  In two rows, twenty-five bodies, most of them men, hung. He found one woman and a teenage boy that looked to be fifteen or so. All were missing limbs, fingers, and other parts Kirk would not want to go without.

  Kirk looked for the missing parts but didn’t find them. He scanned each face to see if any of them were familiar to him. They all were nameless faces and didn’t bring to mind anyone he might know.

  The freezing air made Kirk shiver and his teeth chatter. He left the room and shut the door, jamming the broken handle into the seam to keep the door closed. He didn’t want this cooler to thaw out.

  The hum of computers and the rattle of the air conditioners gave the room an industrial feel. Kirk took a seat on the floor and rubbed his head. He was on an emotional rollercoaster and he was not used to having these feelings. Isis was dying, he had found nothing he could use, and Mark was missing. He was pissed, sad, and hurt. He was not one to be hurt, and the feeling reminded Kirk of why he had closed himself off to the world.

  “Mark, where are you?” He cursed and looked up at the wall of monitors. He listened to the sound of the machines. He needed Mooch. He could crack into these things and tell him where to find the antidote. But Mooch was dead.

  ***

  Cheater, liar, deadbeat, loser, lost, confused, mixed up, alone, in love, hopeful, and so going to die. These words all ran through my mind and filtered down into my gut in a hard ball of worry. K was home with my daughter, Sam, wondering where I was, hoping I was okay, and worrying that I might not ever come home because I might have a bullet in my head.

  I was in my other home, holding another woman. Not only that, but I had made a child with this woman—a little boy whom I loved just as much as I loved Sam. Maria filled my heart just as much as K did. My heart and brain split down the middle, and the ball turned over in my stomach, making me want to die.

  What was I doing? Did I think this was okay? How could it be? But if I was with
K, I was cheating on Maria; when I was with Maria, I was cheating on K.

  “What’s wrong? You seem tense.” Maria looked at me with her brown eyes, so deep and powerful. She kissed me on the nose, and I shook my head.

  “I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.” I could feel my heart swell as I looked at her. My God, she was so beautiful, so perfect and fragile. I pulled her close, breathed in her scent, and buried my face in her neck.

  “You don’t seem tired to me…” She giggled and wriggled in my arms. “I think you need some mommy-daddy time.” She freed herself, took my hand, and pulled me toward the stairs.

  Big butterflies leapt in my stomach, and I let her lead me to my dreams and to my doom. Torn between reality and imagination, I asked her something I knew would kill the mood. I was a master at killing the mood.

  “Do you remember K?”

  Maria stopped dead and the look of playfulness vanished. She studied me and saw in my face that this was not a joke. “Yes, how could I forget?”

  “Was I married to her? Did she die in an explosion?” I wanted to know what time and world I was in. What had Kreios done to me?

  “Mark, why are you doing this to yourself? You did nothing wrong. They died, you avenged their deaths, and now you have a new life. With me and Samson.” Her eyes showed the hurt I was inflicting.

  “I’m sorry, I just feel like I will forget them one day, and wake up to find myself without all the people I love. It feels like it was just yesterday…”

  Maria took my hand again, and I followed her. She knew just how to comfort me, just what to say. She understood the pain I was in. But the me she knew was not the me I was, or was the me I thought I was just all in my head?

  Kreios told me that I was doing something that could hurt us all. Something that, when I dreamed, was going to destroy us, or me, or maybe everything. I knew if this kept up and I had to keep tearing my heart, I wouldn’t recover from it.

  Was I really in some other world, an alternate universe? I scoffed at the idea, but something was going on. I was somehow walking into another life, and it was real. How can I have memories and a family and remember getting married and having a child with Maria if it’s just a dream?

 

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