Dazed
Page 22
His image disappeared and Ella’s replaced it a moment later. “Oh, Rose! I knew I had a bad feeling about Doctor Winston! Are you alright? Of course you’re not alright. What a stupid question. Do you need anything?”
I couldn’t help but smile at Ella’s rambling. “No. I’ll be in the cryogenic chamber in around an hour.”
“You’ll come out. I know you will. I can’t be Queen, Miriam. That’s what you are meant for. You’ll be awake before you know it.”
I shook my head. “No. I have a feeling I won’t – and I think I might come out the other side very different, Ella. Promise me that you’ll be there when I come home. Will you?”
“I’ll be here – and I’ll make rotting roots sure Peter is here, too.”
“I’ll be here, Rose of Petrichoria!” I heard Peter shout in the background and we all laughed.
“Aunt Amoura wants to talk with you,” Ella said.
Ella’s image disappeared and Mother’s came up in its place. “Rose,” she whimpered. “My little Rose bud.”
I smiled encouragingly for her. “Everything will be fine, Mother. I’m sure the doctors are already working towards a cure.”
“Always thinking of others, even when you’re the one suffering. Do you hurt?”
“Yes,” I replied honestly. “My head hurts a lot, but I’m not delusional yet, so – there’s that.”
“You’re going to miss your birthday.”
“We can celebrate it when I wake up.”
“And your Crowning Coronation.”
“We can do that when I wake up, too.”
“And your wedding.”
“Well, there’s nothing to be done about that. I don’t want you guilting Peter into waiting for me for decades either, alright?”
Mother frowned and bit her lip, which told me that was exactly what she was planning. “Alright.” She glanced up and to her left. “Your father wants to speak with you.”
Mother disappeared and Father appeared. “I’m proud of you, Rose,” he said.
“Why?”
“You thought before you acted. You didn’t let those Guards in and you gave clear and concise instructions during an emergency. It makes you a hero in my book. You could have panicked and allowed the Daze to escape the lab.”
“Thank you, Father.”
“You will make a great Queen someday.”
“Thank you, Father.”
“Rose?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“We’re going to give you some more time with Peter, alone this time. I’ll see you when you wake.”
“Bye.”
A moment later, Peter was up again. His eyes were full of tears that he was no longer holding back. As I was opening my mouth to speak, the door to the quarantine room slid open and Doctor Mage pushed in a cryogenic chamber.
“I thought I had an hour,” I said. Peter’s brow furrowed and more tears fell down his face.
“I did not realize there was one here. I am getting it set up. It should not take long. I am pretty much ready when you are.”
I swallowed and turned my attention back to Peter while the doctor set everything up.
“Peter, I’m scared,” I said.
“I know. Me, too,” Peter replied.
I chuckled breathily. “That’s not very comforting.”
“Neither are you,” he said and laughed dryly at his own joke. “Ella’s right, you know.”
“What? That she shouldn’t be Queen? I know she hasn’t had the training, but –”
“Don’t do that,” Peter pled.
“What?”
“Make light of this. There is nothing light about this.”
“I know. I just hate seeing you so sad.”
“I wish I could kiss you one more time. I wish I had said and done a thousand other things when I saw you this morning. Had I known this would happen, I would have done things differently.”
“True tragedy is never expected, my love. That’s why we have to live every moment as if tragedy is right around the corner. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“Princess,” Doctor Mage said and waited for me to look at him. “I am ready when you are.”
“Alright, Doctor.” I looked back at Peter. “I’m going to go to sleep now, Peter. I’ll see you when I wake up.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“I’ll be here.” He disconnected.
Feeling empty, I turned in my seat and made my way over. I looked at the glass door to the chamber and ran my fingers along the edge like the night man had in my vision. Laying down, it did look a lot like a coffin. After climbing in, I nodded at Doctor Mage and said, “It’s time.”
Epilogue
I woke up with a start the first day of college. Sitting up, I brought both hands up to my head to run my fingers through my hair.
“Ew,” I grumbled to myself when I realized my hair was dripping with sweat. In fact, I was dripping with sweat from head to toe. With a deep sigh, I turned, stood up, and involuntarily stretched. Why I was so stiff, I had no idea. It wasn’t like I had done anything strenuous the day before.
I looked over at the clock and groaned when I saw that it was only 4:00 AM; my first course wasn’t until 10:00. I tore the drenched sheets off my bed and tossed them into the laundry basket.
Better shower before I handle the clean ones.
Grabbing my hot pink bath sheet and a change of clothes, I strode to the community bathroom for my floor in my dormitory. My bare feet slapped on the cold tile floor; I knew I should wear some sort of shoes, but didn’t care at the moment, considering the early hour.
“Miriam? Did you have that nightmare again? You look horrible.” Said my friend, Megan. She must have heard my door open and shut. She knew I had been having this nightmare for weeks, even before I arrived there for school.
I glanced over to the mirror and noted that I, indeed, did look horrible. Tight lipped, I muttered, “Gee. Thanks. Yeah I had it again.” She walked over to me and took hold of one of my cold, trembling hands and rubbed it between her nice, warm ones; I hadn’t even realized I was shaking.
Eyes watching her working hands, she said, “It was really bad this time, huh? I’ve never seen you this bad. I mean, you’re terrified. Maybe you should see the school therapist. That’s what she’s there for.”
As she switched hands, I shook my head about the therapist. I didn’t need a shrink. “It was pretty bad this time, but I really don’t want to see a therapist. I don’t think it would make any difference and I don’t want to share my nightmare with a total stranger.”
She looked me in the eyes and said, “Promise me you’ll at least think about it.”
“I promise,” I lied. No way was a going to see a therapist. My recurring nightmare was probably just a result of everything I had been through.
She nodded her head, then left. After preheating the water, I stripped down and hopped into the shower. Closing my eyes, I recounted and tried to make sense of this dream for the millionth time.
I walk down the street in Seattle toward the Puget Sound and look around. Fear is in everyone’s eyes, but I don’t know why. For the first bit, I see people holding their hands to their heads, like they have a headache. As I stroll, the headaches seem to get worse until people suddenly stop. I do as well and notice everyone around me has stopped moving.
I walk over to a woman about my age and observe her. I am expecting a blank expression with still eyes, but what I see are her eyes open and shaking, like she’s dreaming. She “looks” up and mimes that her hand was wrapped around something. She tugs and brings whatever she’s seeing to her mouth and takes a bite out of it. She has a look of pure happiness as she chews as if it’s the best thing she’s ever eaten. Her eyes widen like she’s scared and I back away, but it doesn’t matter, she turns and runs off straight into the street. “Wait! The cars!” I screa
m, but she doesn’t hear me. She runs straight into a moving bus and it doesn’t stop moving. I gasp and bring my hand up to my mouth in an attempt to prevent vomiting.
I turn around and begin running toward the water. The people around me are all waking up and acting bizarre and deadly. They are all dreaming the same way the woman was and doing horrific things. One man draws a knife and tackles an old woman to the ground and stabs her. A woman jumps off her balcony and barely misses me as I pass by. I pick up my speed as a car runs into a lamp post. I finally reach the port and there are numerous people jumping off the side, following the people in front of them like lemmings.
I turn around and look at my beautiful Emerald City and see the chaos that has erupted from seemingly nowhere. The Needle is on fire, lights are flickering, screams echo from every direction. Then the lights go out. The sky is cloudy, so everything is pitch black. The screaming continues, but now the fire is out along with the lights. I can hear my rapid breathing and heart beat ringing in my ears, then a giant crunch above me. The overpass cracks down the center, I lift my hands in reflex, and then…
I wake up. Sighing, I finished rinsing the conditioner of my hair. I don’t know what the dream means or if it even means anything at all, but either way, it’s disturbing. I don’t want to see a therapist. I don’t want to know what my dream means.
Acknowledgements
First, and foremost, I would like to thank God for everything He has done for me. Most specifically, I thank Him for His inspiration and gift of writing.
I would not have been able to write the Rose of Petrichoria series, without the support of my family at The Barn. Thank you for all your encouragement and love! My husband, Nick, was gracious enough to let me use his idea of the Daze for the pandemic in this series. Be looking forward to a couple prequels where it plays a more prominent role.
Several people read through and critiqued Dazed and I am appreciative for all of you, too: Julie Hauenstein, Lynnette Bonner, Sheri Mast, Becky Luna, Deborah Wyatt, Cara Koch, Rachel Custer, and Vanessa Thalhofer.
Note From The Author
Forgetting your life, or knowing someone who has, is a horrible experience. In 2007, my mother suffered strokes while recovering from quadruple bypass heart surgery. One of the debilitating consequences was a loss of short-term memory. Over time, her vascular dementia has progressed to the point that she most often doesn’t remember most long-term memories either.
If you have a loved one who is living with dementia, it is understandable that it would be difficult to see them go through it, or even to experience the heartbreak when they don’t recognize you. People with dementia don’t have the luxury of remembering your last visit. They live in the here and now. While it may be hard for you to see them, give them the love and respect they continue to deserve because they are still human beings with human feelings.
They have forgotten, do not forget them.
About The Author
Katie Hauenstein was educated at Northwest University in Kirkland, Washington, where she met and married her husband, Nick Hauenstein. After graduating with her Bachelor’s Degree in Communication, she had her daughter, Mary, and began writing her stories. Forgotten, the first book in the Rose of Petrichoria series, is her first published novel.
In her spare time, you can find Katie binge watching superhero/sci-fi/fantasy shows on Netflix, fangirling about Doctor Who, attending a variety of movies at the local theater, or with her nose in a book. She also enjoys cake decorating, online shopping, and other introverted activities.