by Sarah Noffke
“What about you? You’re from New York, right? How’d you get down here?” he asked, holding the thermometer out in front of her, waiting for the answer before inserting it into her mouth.
“Like everyone else. I chose to retire here. The Destin weather is good for my bones,” Mrs. Birdy said.
“You’re retired?” he said with an edge of disbelief and a wink before placing the thermometer under her tongue.
The twinkle of the woman’s eyes faded and Cole shook his head, pushing the memory away and looking up at the sky. That had been his old life. The one he cherished. It was a stark contrast to the one he lived now, camping in the swampy waters and washing his clothes in dirty lake water. He’d been an avid camper before the strange people had abducted him, so it wasn’t difficult for him. Uncomfortable at times, but not arduous. Cole had seen enough death that living without convenience wasn’t a hardship for him. And the woods outside Destin, Florida, were the best place for him now, after what they’d done to him in the lab. Out in the wilderness he didn’t have to worry about hurting people, just animals and reptiles. Still, he’d spent his life trying to save those dying so it felt wrong that every seven days he hunted and killed, even if they were animals and not people.
Cole pulled himself fully into the present moment. He spent a lot of time in his head lately, a lot of that energy reviewing old memories. Stopping abruptly, he looked at his feet, where at first glance only leaves and sticks strewed the ground. He kneeled down, pushing a few brown leaves to the side, unveiling the hurt bird lying on its side. Its wing was held at a weird angle, a look of desperation in its eyes. Cole knew that expression well. He’d seen it in so many eyes, memorized it by now.
“Shhhh, it’s okay,” he said to the animal as he picked it up. The bird struggled against the embrace at first, but then settled down. Cole wrapped his large hands around the body of the bird, folding the damaged wing back into place as he did. Only the head of the bird tucked out of his fingers, its black eyes shifting from frantic to calm in a minute’s time. “See. I told you it was okay.” The bird pressed its head into the side of Cole’s thumb, a strange act of affection for a wild creature to do. Then it looked up to the man, pushing its wings against his hands, with a sudden need to move.
Cole pulled his hands down a few inches and then threw them into the air. The bird flew straight up to the tree tops, both its wings beating hard. With his chin in the air, Cole rubbed his hands together, feeling the warmth that always accompanied using his new gift. It had come on after escaping the labs. And since then gratitude and frustration had filled Cole to the brim. If only he’d had this gift of healing when he was a nurse. He could have saved so many.
Chapter Thirteen
“Sleep is also encouraged among Dream Travelers because unconscious matters become conscious through dreams.”
- Dream Traveler Codex
“The clairvoyants aren’t doing their job,” Mika said, on the verge of yelling.
“Sir, we have them on a manageable dose of the bufotoxin. I’m afraid if we increase it then the same thing that happened to the last subject will present itself,” Drake said.
“You mean when they supplied us with events where we could actually intervene?” Mika said, whipping a sheet of paper off the stack and scanning the next. Pages of events had been reported by the fleet of clairvoyants he’d made by giving them the hallucinatory drug secreted by frogs. However, at Drake’s advisement, he’d kept the dose low and now any future events they saw were devoid of detail. What use was it to know that Cole was healing a bird, but not to know where? “I need specifics,” Mika said, flipping yet another page.
“Well, just as long as you know that it will come at a cost. You have invested in these six subjects and increasing their dosage will no doubt lead to a brain aneurysm. So you might get a report or two, but then you’ll have to start over,” Drake said.
“Need I remind you that your job is to innovate these processes so that they yield successful results as well as preserve the subjects for as long as possible?” Mika said, his eyes narrowing on a set of sentences.
“I realize that, but you have a strict time—”
“Shush,” Mika snapped, rereading the report. “Did you read through these future events from the clairvoyants?”
“Of course,” Drake said, hands behind his back, an edge of reluctance in his voice. He must know what was coming next.
“Here it says that Derek walks through a market and stops to watch a show where fish are tossed through the air,” Mika said. “How didn’t you catch that this is the seafood market in Pike Place Market in Seattle?”
“Probably because I’m German and not well aware of American establishments,” Drake said, his eyes turning into slits behind his wire-rimmed glasses.
“That’s no excuse. I’m Finnish and yet I’m able to know something about the places in the country in which I reside,” Mika said, realizing this wasn’t totally fair. He’d been here for twenty years, whereas Drake had only been brought over to America that year.
“Send Haiku in here. I have a mission for him and Malcolm. We’re bringing Derek in,” Mika said.
Haiku tied the apron around his waist. This was a good plan. One that wouldn’t work on most of the werewolves, but that was the beauty of these beasts. Each one was so different and what worked on one wouldn’t work on the other. Mika had ordered Haiku to use force, but he’d offered another plan, one that involved using a skill other than physical. And that was for the best, since his back was still healing from where he’d been stabbed. He could have assigned this job to one of his men, or even to Malcolm, but that wasn’t going to happen. If a werewolf was being brought in then that would be by his hands. That’s why he chose strategy over force.
“We good?” he said to the guy at the back, his nose pinching from the fish smell that lined the area.
“Yep. No questions asked. Do what you got to do and then get out of my hair,” the guy said.
“Thanks,” Haiku said, strolling for the front, ready to wrap up fish and give patrons a show.
Derek was first pulled to the far stall by the violin music emanating through the market. When he couldn’t find the source of the music then he stopped off to sample hummus at a booth that sold various Greek foods. It wasn’t his favorite, but he wasn’t turning away free food. Actually, Pike Place Market was how he’d figured out how to fill his belly on Sunday mornings. The vendors never seemed to notice that he ate up the samples and never bought anything. Maybe they would soon, but hopefully he’d be making more then and be able to buy some fruit or, even better… a piece of meat.
His nose pulled him through the market, like he was on a leash. He stopped when he came to the fish market. The wolf didn’t much care for fish, but for Derek it brought back real nostalgia. Growing up in Ontario, much of his diet was based around fresh fish.
The guys behind the counter took orders, tossing large bass and swordfish before wrapping them up in white paper and handing them over to patrons. Derek watched a large filet of salmon go to a happy couple who ambled off to a corner where a woman was selling large bouquets of flowers.
“What can I get you?” a guy called in Derek’s direction.
“Me?” he asked.
“Yeah,” the guy said. He wore an easy smile and his black hair in a low bun.
“Oh, nothing,” Derek said, raising his hand in the air like a stop sign.
“Got it,” the guy said, and pointed to a woman who had just come to stand next to Derek’s shoulder. They stood even. He was used to that due to his small stature.
“I’ll have that tuna steak,” the woman said.
The guy nodded and seemed to wince a little as he bent over to retrieve a thick tuna steak off the ice. It was wrapped up and handed over in a matter of a few seconds.
“Hey, mister,” the guy said back in Derek’s direction. “Are you interested in getting some fish?”
“
Nah,” Derek said, waving him off.
The guy motioned him forward, checking over his shoulder where the other salesmen were busy serving customers. Derek stepped until he was up close and the guy kneeled forward. He was just a bit taller than Derek.
“In the back I have some seriously discounted fish. Anything and everything you’d want. I don’t usually tell customers about this, but I’ve been hard on my luck before and can kind of see it in your eyes,” the guy said, his Chinese accent pronounced although he spoke in a hush. Then he slammed his palm to his forehead. “I’m sorry if I offended you. Please don’t get me fired. I need this job.”
“No, no, no,” Derek said, waving his hands, trying to wave away the guy’s insecurity. “You’re very observant, and I’m definitely down on my luck. I’d love to see what you’ve got, but I can’t pay much.”
The guy winked at him. “And you won’t have to pay much, I promise. Come on,” he said, waving Derek to the side. “Meet me at the back.”
Derek picked up his step as he strolled to the back, where it was dark and the crowd thinned. He shimmied around a set of stacked boxes and through an opening at the back of the large fish stall. People were inherently good. He’d always thought that. His parents taught him that at an early age. They’d said trusting people brought the best into one’s life. And now it looked like his honest nature was going to get him a large filet of some sort. It would be the best meal he’d had in months. He could almost taste the tuna, or maybe it would be salmon or Chilean sea bass. Yum.
The guy met him at the back, where it was quiet in comparison to the rest of the market. He was wearing a large grin that made his brown eyes glow in the dark. “See that van right there?” the man, said, pointing to a white van parked on the other side of a back door.
“Yep, I do,” Derek said, with his own large smile.
“Go stand in front of it. I’m going to get the keys. I’ll be right there. I’ve got to fetch them,” the guy said. Derek would need to get the man’s name and thank him with a proper handshake after this.
“You got it!” Derek sang loudly.
“And shhhh. Try not to attract attention to you. Face the van and look inconspicuous,” the guy said.
“Are you sure about this? I don’t want to get you in trouble,” Derek said, noticing the guy was suddenly whispering.
“I’m one hundred percent sure. This is just some fish that they gave to the workers, but I can sell it to you at practically nothing. We’re brothers bonded by both being down on our luck,” the guy said.
Derek’s heart swelled with warmth. People were really good. God was good. “All right. I’ll be out here waiting. No one will notice me, I promise,” he said.
“Good,” the guy said.
The keys to the van were in Haiku’s pocket. What he had to retrieve was his bag and more importantly what was in it. He pulled out the rag and dabbed it against the open bottle before screwing on the lid. This had been too easy. And hopefully there’d be no struggle because he didn’t need his injury reopening; not that Derek, even as a werewolf, stood a chance against Haiku, he thought, always overly confident.
Like the good citizen that he was, Derek stood facing the back of the van, his hands in his pockets and chin down. This wasn’t a guy who liked to get into trouble. He’d go to great lengths not to get caught buying fish out of the back of a van. But he was hungry and broke. The perfect combination.
Haiku’s martial arts training made it so that he soundlessly snuck up behind Derek. Derek was just about to turn around when Haiku sprung forward and clapped the white handkerchief over his mouth. The smaller man struggled, hard at first, but then his attempts to scream made him inhale deeply. That’s what most amateurs did when chloroformed. The experts know not to breathe if it can be helped.
Checking over his shoulder, Haiku ensured that no one had seen, due to how he’d parked the van. He pulled open the door where two of his men were ready to drag Derek’s body into the vehicle and bind him.
Chapter Fourteen
“Once a person finds themselves in a dream travel location, they can move on to other locations. However, this should be limited to only a few dozen before waking back to the conscious world. This is because snags can happen with the consciousness if a person travels through too many layers.”
- Dream Traveler Codex
Zephyr peered at the map over Rox’s shoulder. “That’s in the middle of nowhere,” he said, standing up tall.
“Exactly,” Rox said, slapping her hand on her rear end with a smirk.
Picking up the iPad, Zephyr scrolled through the images of the cabin. “It’s beautiful. Rustic, great land and great views,” he said, pausing on each picture momentarily.
“Look at that bath,” Rox said, pointing over his shoulder. “It’s claw-footed, just like you.”
“Ha-ha,” Zephyr said, handing her back the device. “I just don’t get it. When did this become your dream?”
“Since always. For all of my adult life I’ve wanted, no wait, needed, to buy the perfect home. Not something big or flashy, but rather remote, well constructed and with a huge wraparound porch,” she said, nestling her shoulders up as she stared at the cabin on the iPad.
“I never much thought of you as the home owner type,” he said, raising a skeptical eyebrow at her.
She averted her eyes, scrolling to the picture of the garden, which flanked the back of the house. “Well, and the Lucidites are paying me generously and with my FBI money, I’m finally able to purchase this,” Rox said.
“But why?” Zephyr said, still confused.
“Because…” she said, dropping the iPad down to her legs, her eyes falling as she tried to pick the right words, no, the perfect words. “There’s no better way to mark success than to buy a home. It’s the one reward that truly feeds the soul. It’s in our homes that we are safe, both from the world and from ourselves. A home is the one place where we can be our true selves. Walls and a roof are so much more when they belong to a person. They are a refuge away from judgment. They are a sanctuary where our inner child is safe, and the person we are to become can blossom. And… I don’t know. I haven’t had a home since I left my parents’. I think it’s time I did. Something I can call mine.”
Zephyr seemed to think on Rox’s words for a moment and then nodded. “Are you leaving the Institute?” he asked, no worry in his voice. She knew why this was. The two of them had been candid and finally come to terms with how they’d proceed. It was a relief to them both to know. To be in agreement.
“Honestly, I’m hoping they offer me a full-time position when this whole doggy business is over, but that hasn’t happened yet. Anyway, this is in the mountains just northwest of Los Angeles, so it will be an easy commute using a GAD-C. I couldn’t imagine not working, just like I can’t imagine not returning home at eventide at least on the weekends or something,” she said.
“Did you just say eventide?” Zephyr said, a smile tucked at the corner of his pink mouth.
“Do you need me to define it for you?” Rox said, pulling herself onto the table just as Adelaide approached. She eyed the map on the conference room table and then halted, arms crossed.
“Roya, because she’s the worst person to ever exist, missed a report on Derek. He’s been taken by Olento Research,” she said.
“What? How do we know about this if Roya missed the report?” Zephyr said, his back straightening.
“Because sometimes her clairvoyance works in reverse. Think of it like being paid in arrears,” she said.
“Did you just use an accounting term?” Rox said.
“Zeppy, did you hear something?” Adelaide said, looking around like she couldn’t see Rox. “I smell something foul, but I don’t see anything.”
“Damn it, motherfucker,” Zephyr said, pinning both of his hands to the side of his head. “We can’t afford to lose another werewolf. That’s two.”
“One plus one does equal t
wo. Good job with the calculus,” Adelaide said.
“We’re going into Olento Research. We will get Derek and Malcolm. Don’t worry, Z. Mika has some wins, but you know we’re winning this war,” Rox said, knowing this was internally destroying Zephyr. Every member of the pack was connected to him and having them together brought him peace and the opposite brought him torment.
“Put down your pom-poms, whore face,” Adelaide said. “We don’t do pep rallies here. We work with strategy. And currently we don’t have one for entering Olento Research. So let’s wait on the whole ‘win the war’ speech.”
“Hey, I’m sorry about your dad,” Rox said, meaning it. Losing a parent at any age couldn’t be easy. She didn’t know how she’d handle her daddy’s death, which she hoped wouldn’t come for a long time. Rox had inherited her skin resistance from him, so hopefully he’d live longer than most.
“You know, I had always wondered what Rox was short for,” Adelaide said.
Immediately Rox tensed, her eyes showing her nervousness. “Obviously it’s because I’m hard as a rock,” she said, scoffing at the other girl.
“It got me to wondering, was your full name Roxanne? That’s why I decided to peek into the files the Institute had on you,” Adelaide said, her voice singsong.
“Well, Zep, you should probably run along and tell the others about Roya’s mistake. Poor girl. You all should go tear up all her stuff, like a puppy would,” Rox said in a quick rush.
“True,” Zephyr said, turning to Adelaide. “I’d always assumed Rox was short for Roxanne. What’d you find?”
Adelaide studied Rox before placing her hand on her hip and smirking at her. “I just can’t figure out why you don’t go by your real name. I know that from now on I’m going to be calling you by your God-given name, Helga.”