“Don’t!” Ai-Ling cried.
“What are you afraid of? The director said this Sybille is just part of a dream created by the other Sybille. Just like us.”
“We’ll disappear, too.”
“If Sybille wants to wake up, then that’s fine,” said the sheriff.
“How can you do this?”
“You said all our emotions are just something someone else gave us, right? In that case, maybe I really don’t love Sybille at all,” Sheriff Krutz said. “If this Sybille is just part of the dream, sleeping and dreaming within this dream . . . then, if I kill her, the other Sybille might wake up . . .”
“Darling!”
Taking her cry as his cue, the sheriff pulled the trigger. Bright red flames enveloped the bed. The sheriff stared at the missile gun like an idiot. Sybille was sleeping peacefully. Not a trace remained of the flames now.
If we’re lucky, perhaps this world has broken off from Sybille’s dreams and now has a will of its own, the words of Dr. Allen came back into his mind once more. The world doesn’t want to be destroyed. That’s why it put me to work.
Sheriff Krutz lowered his weapon. The frosty beauty of the Hunter drifted to the forefront of his mind and a strange peacefulness came over him. D alone, he knew, was a separate entity. The missile gun sank slowly.
“Darling . . .”
Not answering his wife’s call, the sheriff calmly walked toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m gonna leave the village.”
“How?” Ai-Ling asked.
“I don’t know. But I’ll go around and around a thousand times if need be. Maybe I’ll die in the process.”
Ai-Ling said nothing.
The white door pinched the form of the sheriff from view.
“My darling . . .” Ai-Ling fell to her knees, sobbing. Up ’til this very day, she’d lived with the knowledge that her husband’s heart would never let go of Sybille. She’d always believed the passing years would eventually sweep away the anger and sadness she felt watching her husband go off to see the girl. Thirty years had passed before she finally realized she was used to it. But a resolution was coming—now.
“It’s an awful dream, isn’t it?” the voice of the hospital director echoed over her shoulder.
“But, my husband . . .”
“Can’t be helped. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Ai-Ling closed her eyes and nodded. A tear left her cheek, falling to strike her knee.
.
III
.
When darkness ruled the world, people went in-time. Ten thousand years of memories of the creatures in black were locked into the populace’s DNA, and the nocturnal cries of the beasts only served to multiply their fears. Even now, night didn’t belong to humanity—with the exception of this one small village. Normally, lamps glowed between the trees here, the long shadows of lovers flickered on paths, and the mirthful voices never ceased. But tonight, all that had changed. There were no human forms out on the moonlit streets. The door to every house was barred; people were huddled around their fireplaces, unable to move, as if that was the only place they’d have substance. Each and every villager was straining his or her ears to catch the movements of a single man.
Moonlight falling on every inch of him, D slept in part of the vacant lot. Propped up against the trunk of the same demon’s scruff oak tree that his horse was tethered to, his torso looked ablaze in the light. A few minutes earlier he’d shut his eyes and immediately fallen asleep. He was once again heading to the blue mansion to ask its mistress why she’d called him there. Suddenly, a gust of wind blew against his body and D’s eyes opened. The echo of iron-shod hooves came down the road, and before long a horse and rider appeared in the lot. They were heading straight toward D, who made no attempt to get up.
“Thought you’d be here,” the sheriff said. “Did you meet with her in your dream? With the real Sybille, I mean.”
Lightly raising the brim of his traveler’s hat, D stared
at the sheriff’s honest face. “Finally found out, did you?”
he asked.
“Yep,” Sheriff Krutz said with a nod. “When did you know?”
“When I called on Old Mrs. Sheldon’s place with you. I remembered that I’d had a cup of tea there with a blue petal floating in it. After that, it was just a matter of adding things up.”
“I don’t know exactly how, but Dr. Allen intends to get the Bio Brothers. Ever heard of them?” the sheriff asked, smiling wryly. After all, he couldn’t tell if the information in this world would match that of D’s own.
D didn’t say anything. The sheriff believed his silence wasn’t due to his being uninformed, but rather because he knew who he was going up against and it didn’t matter to him in the least. How torturous had the times he’d lived through been? Thinking of this, Sheriff Krutz felt the heavy, dark sediment that had collected in his heart suddenly disappear; he smiled without even knowing it. “That’s all I had to say. Looks like I went and woke you up, though. Did you see Sybille?”
Meeting the lawman’s searching gaze, D shook his head. “No.”
“Haven’t slept yet, then?”
“I didn’t dream.”
The sheriff didn’t quite know what to say, but then D answered his question for him.
“Probably due to the machine the hospital director was using.”
“In that case, the dream you had would be the same one the Sybille in this world is having, wouldn’t it?” Sheriff Krutz asked.
“Probably.”
“Wonder if it’s the same one the real Sybille has.”
D nodded. “The blue light and the white gown really suit her.”
Staring at D for a while, the sheriff then thanked him. “Dr. Allen and Sybille are in the basement of the hospital. That’s all I really came to say. Good luck to you.”
“Where are you going?”
“Out of the village,” the sheriff said. “Don’t know where I’ll go once I’m out, but I’ve gotta give it a shot. If Sybille wakes from her dream in the meantime, that’s fine by me, too.”
“Good luck.”
“Same to you.”
Sheriff Krutz wheeled his horse around, and D watched him until he’d vanished down the road. Apparently, the only way the Hunter would be able to ask Sybille why she’d called him here was to go to the hospital.
“Well, are we off then?” his left hand asked.
“There’s no other option.”
“Why don’t you try talking to the girl? You know, persuade her to go on sleeping. No matter what you try, nothing you do will counter the effect of his bite. The girl the sleep-bringer loved will never wake again. You ought to tell the doctor and sheriff of this fact and set their minds at ease.”
D pulled a dagger from his coat and slowly began digging up the ground. “Maybe the girl won’t ask me to wake her up,” he said.
The voice in his left hand seemed bewildered by his statement. After a short time, it said in a vaguely buoyant tone, “You sure do say some crazy stuff for a pretty boy. So, what’ll you do if that happens, eh?” The voice stopped suddenly, making a sound like something was stuck in its throat. D pressed his left hand against the mound of black soil he’d dug up. And with that, a sound that anyone would recognize as chewing began, and the mound of dirt dwindled swiftly.
What was happening went without saying. Powered by the four elements of the universe—earth, wind, fire, and water—the countenanced carbuncle was taking his sustenance. And yet, it seemed to be eating out of frustration. D simply kept his eyes pointed straight ahead at nothing and didn’t move a muscle. In no time, the exaggerated sounds of mastication faded; a rude smacking of lips ensued, followed by a belch that shook the darkness.
“They’ve taken measures against you, haven’t they? If we can’t do what we like in this world, we might not even be able to ask the girl what she wants,” the now mean-spirited voice informed him. “That guy from
the hospital’s been meddling with the brain of this world’s Sybille. If the dream you have is the same one she’s dreaming, you probably won’t be able to see her again.” And then, as if suggesting something the Hunter hadn’t thought of, he added, “But wouldn’t that wrap everything up all neat and tidy? The dream just wants to stay a dream, after all. I mean, even for the girl, I don’t think this world is all that bad, as dreams go.”
“You’re not the one who has to dream it . . . and neither am I.” D got up without making a sound. Bright in the moonlight, his profile was cold and beautiful enough to astonish any dreamer.
.
ven as Krutz came up on the last curve, he didn’t sense anything out of the ordinary. Is it gonna send me around in a circle again? The lawman paused and wondered. If it does, that’s just fine by me. Sheriff Krutz rode on, regardless. The scene around him was unchanged. He finished making the turn, and could then make out the dome-shaped watch post on the outskirts of the village. It looked like he was going to be able to get out.
The watch post was manned twenty-four hours a day by three shifts of young men from the village. He took a peek inside, but there was no one around. If there’d been anyone in there, he’d have felt them or heard their breathing, but there was nothing like that—only the cold atmosphere on what had been an unattended post from the very beginning pierced the sheriff. Perhaps this was a dream, too?
Getting off his horse, he went into the watch post and pushed the control button. There was the low whine of a winch as the four bars that comprised the roadblock were hoisted out of the way. The sheriff mounted his horse again and took a hold of the reins when all of the sudden a low whinny entered his ear and raced through his whole body. There were two sounds—the sounds of a horse and another animal.
Forty-five to fifty yards ahead of him, the road was intersected by a broad strip of white. Sheriff Krutz concentrated his gaze on the right side—off to the south. If he couldn’t see that far in the darkness, he never would’ve been cut out to be sheriff. Although it wasn’t a particularly common occurrence, rescuing those careless enough to travel by night was part of what he was paid to do.
The moon was bright. And yet, the two approaching silhouettes seemed to have an undulating darkness trailing along behind them. One of them was a man in a coat on horseback. The other one was doubled over the back of some black quadruped shape, which at first appeared to be just a hump on its back. The sheriff’s memory informed him of who they were. Giving a light kick to his mount’s flanks, he rode out to the road.
The strange silhouettes continued to draw closer, not seeming the least bit unnerved.
“Hold it,” the sheriff called out to them from twenty feet away.
The two men halted as if on cue. Their stop had been so well synchronized, it almost seemed like they were telepathically linked.
“You’re the Bio Brothers, aren’t you?” the lawman asked.
There was no reply.
“I’m the sheriff in this village. Krutz is the name. You keep riding on straight to the north.”
As soon as he’d finished speaking, there was some reaction from the others. The man on the horse said nothing, but smiled. The quadruped shadow bared its fangs. Either side of the muzzle it extended had a gleam of emerald—its eyes.
From his seat on the back of a cruelly snarling black panther, the shadowy figure said, “He told us to be on our way down the main road, big brother.” The tone was mocking. Scorn was a common camouflage for anger. “He’s telling us to keep out of his village.” Below the source of that voice, there was a wet sound, like flesh ripping. The little man who looked like he’d been lying on his belly had risen. The flesh of his abdomen continued to rip free from the black panther’s back.
“We’re here because we were sent for,” the man on the horse said. He was a figure of imposing proportions, every bit as tall and broad-shouldered as the sheriff. His tone was as dark and heavy as the earth. “You ought to know that. You’d know one of our jobs, at least.”
“Yeah, one of them,” the man on the panther’s back said. The little man was dressed in black from top to bottom. It was impossible to tell whether or not his lower body was actually fused to the panther’s back.
“Really, now. How many more are there?” Sheriff Krutz asked, lifting the bottom of his jacket and brushing the grip of his missile gun with his right hand. He was well aware of the ruthless ways of the Bio Brothers. Two of the most dangerous killers on the Frontier, the pair were known to tear those that faced them limb from limb, while the panther filled its belly with their victims’ innards before they finished ripping them to shreds. Could he take them? He tried to imagine it, but wasn’t so sure if he could. The two of them would be bad enough, but he sensed something else waiting behind him.
“Just one,” the man on the horse replied. “Getting rid of you.”
The sheriff kicked his horse’s flanks. At the same time, the two men across from him also began to advance. Sheriff Krutz figured the battle would be decided in an instant. The distance between the two factions was definitely diminishing, and the darkness between them made sounds as it began to coalesce. A lust for blood blew at the sheriff’s face like a gale-force wind. The panther sprang at him from the left, like pouncing darkness. In midair, its claws grew a foot long.
The very instant the sheriff vanished from the beast’s field of view, the little man on its back leapt into the air. “What the hell?!” the little man cried out in astonishment. Although he’d followed the sheriff’s leap and was launching an attack on the lawman, the knife that gleamed in the little man’s right hand had been deflected by the barrel of the missile gun. To make matters worse, the gun Krutz was holding also smacked him in the forehead, knocking him backward.
Even in midair, the sheriff kept an eye on his foes on the ground. He turned the missile gun that’d smashed open the brow of the little man—who was apparently the younger brother—in the direction of the big man on the horse and opened fire.
“Hyah!” the man cried, and a second later, he was galloping across the earth.
Equipped with a laser-targeting unit, the missile limned a gentle curve.
Touching down again, the sheriff fired a second shot at the black panther that’d bounded off the back of his horse in another direction. The panther didn’t dodge it. In fact, the flames from the missile imbedded in its forehead vanished unexpectedly. Was it a misfire? Or was that the world’s way of trying to save itself?
Time for a third shot. The sheriff’s fingers worked reflexively, and even when he found the pale flames of a projectile sinking deep into his chest, his digits didn’t stop. When the unholy conflagration finally died out, a shadowy figure stood up in the spot where, until then, the sheriff had existed. It was the man on the horse—the older brother. The missile had been aimed at him, however, the target that’d apparently run away had appeared again from the completely opposite direction.
“Wasn’t as easy as I thought it’d be,” the younger brother spat from the panther’s back, one hand pressed to his forehead. He then licked at the blood dripping from his fingers with his hideously long tongue.
“Excuses about being out of practice aren’t gonna cut it,” the older brother said reproachfully.
“You’re right.”
“Our next opponent is a heavyweight.”
The younger brother stopped moving. As he did, the black panther bared its fangs and let out a menacing snarl. The moon alone remained bright as the two shadowy figures headed into the village.
.
It’s getting rougher on her,” Dr. Allen muttered as he watched the blue line on the display panel. “Sybille’s putting up quite a fight, too, as I thought she might. Of course, that’s not surprising, as this world was hers to begin with.”
“Will it be all right?” Ai-Ling asked. “That machine of yours will only work on our Sybille, I take it. What’ll happen if the other Sybille intervenes?”
“I don’t know,�
�� the hospital director said. “I don’t even want to consider it. All we can do is pray it doesn’t come to that. That is, if we even have the right to pray.”
“I should hope we at least have the right to live,” Old Mrs. Sheldon said, sitting in her favorite rocking chair over by the window. “Not that I mind, as it’ll be time for me to call it a night soon. Of course, I can’t even get a decent night’s rest with the thought of this world of ours bringing me back from the dead whenever it pleases. What in blazes is gonna happen next? Who gets to decide our fate? This world? The other Sybille you folks have been talking about?”
She turned her face toward the floor in contemplation, as Ai-Ling said in a brooding tone, “D. What if we explained what’s going on to the Hunter and tried to get him to help us? We could ask him to ignore Sybille’s request.”
“I’m thinking that’d be a big waste of time,” Old Mrs. Sheldon replied, shaking her head. “Sybille went to all the trouble of calling him here. Whether he wants to or not, he’s gonna wake Sybille up.”
“I have to agree with that,” the director said as he adjusted the energizing crystals.
“Wake her up . . .” Ai-Ling muttered. “Wake up someone who received the kiss of the Nobility . . . I wonder if he could?”
“What other point would he have in being here?” said Dr. Allen.
Ai-Ling was about to open her mouth to speak when the old woman’s harsh tone stopped her.
“Leave your thoughts as just that. I certainly don’t wanna hear them.”
Silence descended on them until the intercom set in the wall started to buzz softly. Getting to his feet, Dr. Allen pushed the talk button and asked, “What is it?”
The nurse’s voice wasn’t very loud, but the other two heard her well enough.
“So, they’re here, are they?” the director muttered, confirming that he’d gotten the message before he released the talk button again.
“What’ll you do? Are you going to leave Sybille’s dream erased?”
Dr. Allen shook his head at Ai-Ling’s question. His gesture carried something more with it, but the woman didn’t want to interpret it as despair.
The Stuff of Dreams Page 13