by Sarah Noffke
One-Twenty-Six Press.
Awoken
Sarah Noffke
Copyright © 2014 by Sarah Noffke
All rights reserved
Copyeditor: Christine LePorte
Cover Design: Andrei Bat
All rights reserved. This was self-published by Sarah Noffke under One-Twenty-Six Press. No parts of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. If you are seeking permission send inquiry at http: www.sarahnoffke.com
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Summary: Humans sleep at night unaware that an ancient evil man is preparing to steal their consciousness, but the person he needs to do it is the only one who can stop him.
Published in the United States by One-Twenty-Six Press
ISBN: 978-0-9862080-1-0
For Luke, because I wrote every one of these words hoping you’d like them.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Prologue
The howling wind always marks his arrival. Tonight I’m not sleeping when it shakes the trees and sends debris flying around outside. The recurring nightmare woke me an hour ago. I wipe away the sweat beading my hairline and steal a glance out my window. The figure lurks in the shadows. He’s never any closer than the old oak tree, but that’s near enough. A chill shakes my core. I can’t do this one single night more. Shaking fingers scroll through my phone contacts until I find the right one.
“Hello,” a groggy voice says on the other end.
I speak in a whisper. “I’m not sure I believe what’s happening, but I’m ready to let them protect me.”
“Good,” the voice says with relief. “You’ll be glad you did.”
“What do I do now?”
“They want you to meet someone. He’ll explain what happens next.”
Chapter One
Forty-eight hours later
I wouldn’t believe any of this was real if it wasn’t for the two-inch gash in my arm. Still, denial has rented a room in my head and frequently stomps around slamming doors. I have never considered myself normal, but only now do I fully realize how extremely abnormal I am. That’s not the part I’m denying anymore. It’s my potential fate.
Now I have to do the one thing that feels impossible: focus. It’s difficult when my life has quickly turned into a mass of confusion. I force myself to shake off the distractions. The answers I seek reside in a place I can only get to if I let go.
With immense effort, I relax enough to concentrate. In my head, I see the dam. The concrete stretches out like a barrier, pushing the water away. I pay attention to the water, how it voyages down the spillway. Slow breaths intensify the meditation, giving it color and sound. I continue to visualize until I sense the change. It’s polarizing, in a good way. My body remains planted in the comfy bed while my consciousness dream travels. Now I’m racing through the silver tunnel—my transport to the other dimension. Adrenaline tastes like salt water in my mouth. And too quickly the journey is over, leaving me panting as I’m tossed into a vast space.
The tunnel deposits me at the edge of the spillway on a concrete embankment. A cursory glance behind reveals a calm lake reservoir; ahead the spillway plummets for a hundred feet or more before cascading into the lake. The moon overhead is full. Beside me is a woman.
“I was beginning to think you were lost again,” she says.
“It’s nice to meet you too,” I say.
“I assumed you already knew my name.”
Apparently the Lucidites don’t believe in greetings. “Well, some ID wouldn’t hurt.”
Shuman’s black hair resembles strands of silk. She wears a leather vest and blue jeans. I straighten, feeling smaller than usual next to her.
“Did you decipher the riddle on your own?” Shuman says, ignoring my comment. The moon reflects off her high cheekbones, making her appear angular.
“No,” I admit, “Bob and Steve helped.”
I’m confused why Shuman gave me a riddle instead of just telling me where to dream travel to meet her. I guess as the Head Mentalist for the Lucidites she has to make everything as perplexing as possible. She must be great at her job.
“Yes, it was forecast that they would assist you,” she says.
“Right, of course,” I say, not masking the irritation in my voice. It isn’t Bob’s and Steve’s help I resent, it’s that the Lucidites are privy to my life through psychic means.
“And we are here because of a different prediction.”
“Yes, I’ve heard about it.”
“Have you also heard that it involves you?”
“Well, I know there’s a potential I’ll be involved.”
“We have new information. Your name is the only one in the forecast now.”
“What?” I breathe with quiet disbelief. “No, that’s impossible.”
“It is possible and I assure you it is true. The speculation of predictions solidifies as the approaching event draws closer. Now forecasters see you as the true challenger.”
“No,” I say too fast, denial evident in my tone. “And I’m not here because of the forecast; I’m here because they said you’d help me.”
“They are correct. The first way I can help is by getting you to accept what has been predicted.”
“Predictions are just guesses though. What if they’re wrong?” I say.
Shuman raises her eyebrow in disapproval, shakes her head. “Roya, do you doubt it because it involves you?”
“Mostly I doubt it because it’s absurd. None of it makes sense.”
“Maybe not yet, but it will,” Shuman says. “Unfortunately we are running out of time. The forecasters have determined the static moment to be twenty-one hundred hours on June thirteenth.”
That’s in a month. My throat closes and m
y chest shrinks in on itself. “What? I can’t…There’s no way…” I trail off, lost in morbid thoughts of my impending death. “Why not you or someone else more qualified?”
“If I was chosen I would be honored, but I was not. You were.” Shuman gazes at the full moon, her silver earrings highlighted by its white light. “I have tracked Zhuang for decades without success. Many of us have.” She turns and looks at me for the first time. Her dark eyes resemble amethysts. “This fixed point in time is the only chance anyone will have the opportunity to challenge him. And the forecast states you are the person with the best opportunity to end his brutal reign.”
“That’s ridiculous. I’m not a threat to anyone.”
“A few days ago you saw yourself very differently than you do now, is that right?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Then consider it possible that in a month you will be a deadly force.”
After what I’ve learned, I’m almost willing to believe this might be true. I sigh. “So what do you really want from me?” I ask.
“Make a choice,” Shuman says at once. “You must decide whether you accept this role. If you do, then I can give you the help you asked for.”
“If everything you’ve said is true then I don’t have a choice.”
“It is all true,” she says through clenched teeth. “And in waking life and dreams, you always have a choice. This is what makes Dream Travelers different from Middlings. We do not sleep and fall into dreams that happen to us. We create our dreams. We choose where we travel.”
I rub my eyes, frustrated and strangely tired. “It’s just facing Zhuang sounds like a death sentence. I don’t want to go through all this just to die in June.”
“If you make the choice to be the challenger then you will face many dangers. You may not even make it to June. You may die tonight.” Shuman’s face lacks any compassion.
“If you’re trying to convince me to do this then you’re not doing a very good job,” I say.
Shuman stares at the moon for a minute as if she’s calculating something. “I will need your answer.”
“What? Now!?” My voice echoes over the spillway. “Just like that? I don’t get a minute to think it over or go home and weigh out my options?”
“You do not have a home,” she reminds.
My foot connects with the concrete curb in front of me. I want to throw an all-out tantrum. Running and hiding also sounds like a good idea. Shuman’s oppressive demeanor, indifferent to my predicament, makes it tough to think. I wait for her to say something, but she just stands motionless watching the moon. She’s starting to creep me out.
“What’s going to happen to my family?” I ask, the last word sounding strange as it tumbles out of my mouth.
“I suspect Zhuang will maintain his hold on them, but who he really wants is you,” Shuman says indifferently. “Your family is officially classified as hallucinators. He has the ability to keep them like this for a long time. Or he could finish them rather quickly.”
Finish them? Does that mean what I think it does? This man, this parasite, is stealing my family’s ability to dream, causing them to fall into hallucinatory states. And I’m powerless to stop Zhuang if he decides to drain them of their consciousness. Then they’d be shells, sleepwalkers. Dead in no time. A shiver runs down my spine.
Shuman continues, “Zhuang’s plan was to make you panic and surrender to him. It is fortunate we found you first. My guess is your family will hang in limbo. Zhuang’s attention will be on finding you. If you want to help your family then stay away, otherwise he will use them against you. And if you want to release them then you need to fight Zhuang.”
“And win,” I say, doubt oozing all over the words.
“Well, of course.”
“This whole thing makes no sense.” I rub my head with a shaky hand. “Why me? I’m barely old enough to drive. I’ve only known about this mess for a few days. How was I chosen? How am I the best person to face him?”
“I do not know the answers to these questions,” she says, still fixated on the moon.
“Then why should I do this!? Why should I jeopardize my life without knowing why I’ve been chosen?”
Shuman takes one long blink as though contemplating or meditating. Her words are airy and quiet when she finally speaks. “The great Buddha once said, ‘Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.’”
I bite down hard on my lip. So this is the way it is? Either I live my life alone on the streets and watch as Zhuang ransacks humanity’s dreams. Or, option two, I volunteer to kill him and most likely die trying, but my consolation prize will be I’ll know why I’d been chosen. I’ll know who I was and where I could have belonged…if I hadn’t died in Zhuang’s hands. This seems like a scam, although an ingenious one.
A sincere part of me wants to return to my family and shake them until they’re released from their hallucinations. Then we can go on living our lives where the most interesting things that happen are football, church, and barbeques. It’s not a great life for an agnostic vegetarian, but is it better than death? I may be a product of the East Texas soil, but the winds here have never agreed with me. I’ve been looking for a way out of this town, but not like this.
“I cannot grant you any more time,” Shuman says. “I need your answer.”
I scan the surface of the water, looking for nothing in particular. She can wait for my answer. She will.
I push my fingers into my eyes and inhale deeply. This duel is inevitable. Zhuang and his challenger’s futures are intertwined. Any attempt to evade the other person will only bring the two together. And somehow I was elected by people I don’t know, for a danger I only recently knew existed. Still none of this makes sense, which is why I know I have to rely on instinct. It’s all I have left. “Fine,” I say a bit pathetically. “I’ll do it.”
A smile would be nice, or maybe a “good for you.” Instead Shuman, who appears to be all business, all the time, begins spouting instructions. “Your next step is to find the Lucidite Institute. Since you are relatively new to dream traveling there are many risks you face.”
No big surprises there.
Shuman continues, “You must dream travel to the Institute while fully submerged in water.”
Um, what? “Are you serious? I’ll drown.”
“There is that risk, yes, but the only way to enter the Institute is through water. To travel there you must return to your body and then immerse yourself in water. I advise you to know you are one with it. It is through this knowledge that you overcome the fear of drowning and focus on the higher task of dream traveling. If you remain calm and focus properly then you will travel and arrive at the Institute. If you are unsuccessful, then yes, you will drown.”
“Oh, is that all? Sounds like a piece of cake.” I’m wondering now if I made the right decision.
Shuman narrows her eyes, but doesn’t respond otherwise.
I rub my temples as an overwhelming pressure erupts behind my eyes. “This is all so strange, it sounds like a recurring dream I’ve been…” My words fall away as the inevitable truth dawns on me. “You put those dreams in my head, didn’t you?” I accuse, staring at her rigid persona.
“The Lucidites are responsible, yes,” she says, her tone matter-of-fact.
“What! That’s insane! That’s awful. Night after night I dreamed I was drowning myself. Do you know how horrifying that is?”
“You should be grateful. We have prepared you for the journey you are about to take. Your subconscious mind has already practiced much of what you are going to do.”
“Grateful!?” I shake my head in disbelief. “I thought I was losing my mind. I didn’t sleep well for weeks. No. I’m not the least bit grateful. You invaded my subconscious,” I spew, more frustrated now than frightened.
Shuman takes a long inhale and says, “Everything that has been done was to protect you and the future.”
How do I argue with that statement? H
ow do I argue with any of this? I want to run, to abandon this farce which has become my life. However, my instinct is concrete around my legs, pinning me in place, assuring me this is where I belong.
“Roya, we are running out of time,” Shuman says, breaking the silence. “Do you have any questions?”
“Why does it have to be so complicated to dream travel to the Institute? Isn’t there an alternative?” Like a spaceship or a drug?
“No, there is not,” Shuman says. “The Institute is heavily protected by water. The difficulty it takes to travel there is what makes it the safest place on earth.”
The idea settles over me like a down comforter. Safety. What would that feel like? Every moment has been cloaked with a hidden threat for so long. When the recurring dreams weren’t plaguing me, the paranoia lurked in the shadows and was all but incapacitating. It was almost enough to make me take the pills the therapist kept pushing. Almost.
“If I do all this”—the words drip out of my mouth— “if I don’t drown, then I’ll be at the Institute? I’ll be safe? At least for a little while, right?”
Her eyes jerk away from their focal point. There’s a twitch at her mouth. “Yes.”
I sigh. It’s the first one of relief in a while. “All right then, I’ll do it,” I say halfheartedly.
She turns and faces me, resting her arms across her chest. Around one of her forearms is a tattoo of a rattlesnake. The serpent’s tail lies on her elbow and its head on the back of her hand.
“There is one last thing,” she says, a warning in her voice. “Only Lucidites can enter the Institute. You must want to be one of us, or you will be forbidden from entering.”
I blink in surprise. My mouth opens to voice hesitation, but she disappears, leaving me alone and feeling as though I’m standing on the edge of the earth.
Chapter Two
Hurling myself over the spillway is an intriguing idea. With my luck the fall wouldn’t kill me. I’d only be maimed while still being hunted.
The energy bounding out of my chest is intense. My pacing does little to expend it. I throw my hands through my hair and notice that once again my arms and hands have a ghost-like appearance. I’m guessing my face probably does too.