by James Phelan
My mother.
They rush her to the helicopter, where she is placed on a stretcher and wrapped in a shimmering silver blanket.
“Mama …”
“Here,” she manages to say, looking at me. Her arm is outstretched. It’s blackened and charred. I can’t look at it. “Take it. And remember, dream big …”
I take the object from her hand and she is bundled aboard. The door slams shut and the motor roars to life, my father dragging me away from the spinning blades. The helicopter lifts up into the sky and heads for the mountains, where it will take her to the other side, to the city.
Away from me.
I know, looking at my father’s tear-stained face, that I will never see my mother alive again. The heat of the fire is intense but we do not move. The firefighters stand there, helpless, with nothing to do but let the fire burn out against the night.
I open my hand. My mother has given me something precious to her, something that has been in her family for five hundred years. I clench it so tightly it hurts.
“Always remember what she said,” my father says, his voice distant and quiet as a whisper. “Dream big, Sebastian.”
06
POH
Dr. Dark snorted and shifted slightly. Phoebe reached over to shake him again.
“Pass me that water,” Xavier said, crouched by his father.
“It’s our last bottle,” Maria said, handing it over.
“Yeah, I know,” Xavier said, then undid the cap and poured a little onto his hand. “I won’t use much.”
“Argh!” Dr. Dark said when the water sprinkled from Xavier’s fingers hit his face. He sat upright, coughing.
“Dad—are you OK?” Xavier said. “You were sleeping, it was hard to wake you.”
“Oh, I see, I’m sorry,” Dr. Dark said, looking at Xavier, and at the others, and then at their tunnel prison, the realization hitting him all over again. “We’re trapped down here?”
“Ah, yeah,” Cody said. “Thanks to you, leading us straight to Solaris.”
Dr. Dark said nothing. He looked from them to Xavier, and Poh could tell that he saw confusion, anger and disappointment on his son’s face.
This is hard for him.
“Xavier, I’m sorry,” Dr. Dark said. “I’m sorry, to all of you. I had no idea he was down here. I would never risk—”
“Regardless of how we ended up in this situation, it is what it is now,” Phoebe said. “And we need to do something, we can’t stay here.”
“Right,” Dr. Dark said, looking around. He scratched his head, his hair all messed up and full of sand and dirt, as was his bearded face and grimy clothing.
“Oh, great,” Cody said, pacing away from them. “He’s still nuts.”
“Cody, cool it, man,” Xavier said. “My father’s not himself right now.”
Dr. Dark picked up the water bottle and stared at the contents like it was something he’d never seen before.
“Yeah, well, I think he’s going to wash his hair with the last of our water,” Cody said. “At least we won’t have to wait too long to die of thirst.”
But Dr. Dark was looking at the clear plastic bottle, tilting it side to side, watching the water slosh around inside. Then he looked at the walls and floor around them. He touched the walls with one hand, the water bottle in the other. He reached up high, where there was a mark on the wall, up high near the top corner, which ran all the way down the walls.
“A watermark,” Dr. Dark said, “where water once ran through.”
Phoebe was watching him carefully now. Dr. Dark moved toward the sensors. He was unsteady on his feet and the red grid loomed closer and closer.
“Dad, what are you doing?” Xavier asked.
Dr. Dark knelt down, eyeing up where the canister was attached to the wall beyond the sensor.
“Dad?” Xavier’s anxiety was obvious to them all.
Poh watched as Dr. Dark took the water—and started to throw it toward the canister.
“Dr. Dark, no!” Poh said, rushing to him, fearing all their water would be wasted.
But it wasn’t.
The water trickled over the circuits of the trap and it shorted out with a series of sparks and smoke. The grid disappeared. Poh grinned.
He is a clever man, Xavier’s father.
“Genius!” Cody said, rushing over to Dr. Dark and helping him to his feet and clapping a hand on his back. “You’re a genius! Forget all that other stuff I said, OK? I take it back!”
Dr. Dark just nodded, then took a sip of what was left in the water bottle.
“Do you know where the tunnel leads?” Xavier asked him. “We came here from the other direction.”
“No, I’ve never been this far into the maze,” Dr. Dark said, tying his shoelaces. “But we don’t really have a choice now, do we?”
“Right,” Xavier said to him. “But—”
“Well, then, let’s go,” Dr. Dark said to them, his eyes clear and his expression resolute. “We’ve got a date with destiny!”
07
SAM
The stunned silence in the Professor’s office felt as heavy as a stone.
Sebastian.
Sam took off his helmet, his hands shaking. He stared at the floor for a long time, too afraid to look up. No one spoke, no one moved.
Sam shut his eyes again and breathed slowly, trying to stay calm.
That was Sebastian.
Reluctantly, he opened his eyes and glanced over to the Professor. He was sitting there, motionless, his helmet still on, the visor covering his eyes.
“He’s the final Dreamer?” he heard Eva whisper. “But how?”
“I don’t understand—” Alex began to say, still standing alongside Eva where they had been watching the replay on the screen.
“Sam,” Eva said, still whispering, “was that what you dreamed earlier?”
Sam shook his head, but still could not bring himself to speak.
“That was …” Alex mumbled, confused.
First, I dreamed Solaris had the final Gear.
That was Sebastian’s dream. Sebastian had the same Gear.
No one spoke as long seconds ticked by.
“I’m … I’m not sure,” Sam said finally, trying not to panic. He looked over to Lora, who stood frozen in the corner of the room. Her face was pale, her eyes unblinking. “Lora, I’m sorry …” he said, “I didn’t mean—that was different to the dream that I remembered before. In the first dream, Solaris was there, in Egypt. We were fighting over the Gears. Then my dream jumped around … I mean, I did see that place, but not like that. We were in that field, but it looked a bit different. That house wasn’t there. And the fire and …” Sam looked to the Professor, who was now slowly taking off his helmet. “That was you, wasn’t it?” Sam asked him.
The Professor stood up and went to the fireplace. He leaned against the mantelpiece and looked into the embers, lost. Sam could see tears in his eyes.
“Yes, Sam, that was me, thirteen years ago,” the Professor said, his voice sounding detached. Sam and the others waited in silence for him to continue.
When the Professor spoke again, it made Sam jump, his voice louder now, more direct. “I am sorry, Sam. There must have been a problem using this outdated technology—perhaps I took you into my subconscious, or recalled a memory from long ago. We can try again later, ask Jedi for a new dream reader.” He turned to face those in the room. “You will find another Dreamer. I’m afraid this dream was not it.”
“But,” Lora said, checking the data from the dream machine, “that was Sam’s dream, Professor, not yours.”
“What?” The Professor’s face was full of disbelief. “Impossible.”
Lora tapped the machine. “This says that it was Sam’s dream. We’ve just seen more of it than he recalled at first. Sam had to be sharing the dream with someone—with him.” Lora looked distraught, now wide-eyed and breathing heavily.
“So that would mean that Sebastian isn’t …?”
Eva’s voice petered away to nothing as she gasped.
“I am sorry, Sam, but that dream cannot be. This was some kind of trick or you are mistaken. I’m sure you will have another dream that will reveal the true Dreamer. What you dreamed is … impossible,” the Professor said. “My son is dead.”
Sam looked to Eva and Alex, who looked as uncomfortable and confused as he felt.
“I’m sorry, Professor,” Sam said, “but we can’t just pretend this didn’t happen.”
“We all heard his name,” Eva said carefully. “We all recognized who it was in the dream. We have to be able to talk about this, no matter how painful.”
Sam turned to the Professor. “You’ve always told me to believe in myself, believe in my dreams. This is what they’ve shown us.”
“Hold on a minute,” Alex said. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” He glanced around the room, disbelievingly. “It’s crazy, but it’s true, isn’t it?”
In that moment, Sam knew the truth for certain.
“Sebastian is still alive,” he said. “Sebastian is Solaris.”
08
“Professor!”
The Professor slumped forward, knocking over a small table as he crashed to the floor.
“Give him some air!” Lora commanded as she rushed to his side. “Get some water, quickly.” She put a cushion under the Professor’s head and cradled him tenderly, even as her own tears flooded down her cheeks.
They gathered around, Eva holding a glass of water, wobbling furiously as her hands shook. Alex put his arm around her, steadying her. Sam knelt down next to Lora.
The shock was too much.
He’s found a son and lost a son, all in a moment.
The Professor’s eyes fluttered open, his face ashen as he came to his senses.
Thank goodness.
“What happened?” the Professor said, struggling to sit up.
“Slowly, slowly does it,” Lora cautioned. Sam brought him a chair and they eased him up into it. “You’ve had a shock—we’ve all had a shock.”
“Yes … that’s right, Sam’s dream. No—Sebastian’s dream …” the Professor said, letting out a sigh. “It cannot be, and yet, it must.” He turned to Lora, their shared tears of relief mixed with bewilderment and horror. They embraced for a long moment, the only sound was Lora’s sobs as she buried her face in the Professor’s shoulder.
“He survived the crash in New York,” Alex said quietly, voicing what they were all thinking.
“He must have,” Lora said, wiping away her tears, forcing herself to regain her composure. “Somehow he survived and somehow he became …”
“Evil.” The Professor stood up, wavering for only a moment, clutching at the mantelpiece to steady himself. “You are right, my young friends,” he said, turning to Sam, Eva and Alex. “We must face the truth if we are to have any hope of winning the race. We must trust Sam’s dreams and be strong if we are to prevail. There are so many unanswered questions, but we have to focus on what we must do.”
“Professor, are you sure? Do you—Lora, need a moment?” Sam said, concern etched on his face.
“No, it’s OK, Sam,” Lora said, coming over to stand next to him. “Thank you, but we must deal with what this means now.”
“But what does it mean?” Eva asked. “Does the watch Solar—Sebastian was holding contain a Gear?”
“That isn’t a watch,” Lora said.
“Lora is right,” the Professor said. “It is an astrolabe—a type of early navigational tool, made in the 1500s. Sebastian,” he visibly winced as he said his son’s name out loud, “carried it with him everywhere after he lost his mother.”
“So the Gear is inside it?” Alex said.
“It must be, which means it was either destroyed in the plane crash in New York,” the Professor said, “or else Sebastian still has it in his possession. Either way, it is lost to us.”
“But none of the Dreamers knew they were a part of the last 13 until Sam dreamed of them,” Lora said, “so there might still be time to find it.” There was a sudden clarity about the way she spoke, as though a revelation had hit her like a bolt of lightning.
“I don’t understand,” the Professor said to her.
Lora ran the footage back and stopped at the moment that Sebastian took the astrolabe from his mother’s grasp. She zoomed in on the image.
“If that’s got the thirteenth Gear inside it …” she said.
“Lora, what do you mean there might still be time?” Eva asked, confusion on everyone’s faces.
“He gave it to me,” she said, tapping on the screen, “a long time ago.”
“He—he gave his mother’s astrolabe to you?” the Professor said.
Lora nodded.
“Do you still have it?” Eva asked hopefully.
Lora shook her head with regret. “It was when we were still students, in our final year. We’d just started going out and we won the Dreamer Doors, which was held in Venice that year. That’s how we won it, actually—we had the astrolabe with us and the final task involved navigation at sea, so it enabled us to take the lead.”
“So—where is it?” Sam asked.
“The night we won the competition,” Lora said, “we went to his family’s crypt in Venice. In the middle of the night, we snuck in and left the astrolabe on his mother’s tomb, as a tribute.”
“But if that’s true,” Sam said, “then Solaris—I mean Sebastian—will know too, right?”
“Then we shall have to beat him to it.” The Professor stared at the screen that showed the final image of Sebastian’s dream. “We must act immediately.” He turned to them. “Sam and I will go to Venice and retrieve the final Gear.”
“What do we do?” Alex asked.
“Lora will take the rest of you to Egypt, to meet up with Dr. Dark and the others. You will find them there, nothing surer.” The Professor nodded, looking around his office, mentally saying goodbye to it all. “And one more thing …”
They all turned to the Professor, apprehensive.
“You should call him Solaris. He’s not my son anymore. Sebastian is dead.”
09
ZARA
“This way!” Zara yelled, skidding on the cobbled streets.
They ran out into the maze of laneways, flying around corners, turning randomly left and right in an effort to lose their pursuers. Gunshots shattered the early morning calm, a woman screaming out in shock as the gunmen gave chase.
Zara’s legs were burning as they fled down a side street, narrowly missing a row of bicycles chained up in front of a line of small shops. Issey ran beside her, his tall, lean frame flying along in long strides.
More shots echoed out, shouts mingling with them, the chaos threatening to catch up to them.
Zara propelled herself on, turning to glance at Issey, pulling him on through an ancient archway. They ran past a small, ornate mosque. A door was ajar, an old woman sweeping the steps after morning prayer.
“We need to hide somewhere,” Issey gasped. “We can’t keep running.”
He’s right. We must ask for help.
Zara stopped, grabbing Issey’s arm. “Follow me,” she said, retracing their steps to the front of the mosque. The old woman looked up, her face creasing with concern at the sight of two teenage foreigners, gasping for breath.
“Help us, please,” Zara entreated her, coming forward with her hands pressed together pleadingly. She cast her eyes back down the lane, empty for now.
They won’t be far behind.
The old woman stared at them.
“Au secours, s’il vous plait!” Zara asked again. “Um, saa’adinii?” she tried.
The woman stepped forward, taking Zara’s face gently in her hands. She searched her eyes for a long moment and nodded, smiling at them both. She turned to point at the mosque door.
“Merci, merci!” Zara gasped, sprinting up the steps with Issey. They dived through the open doorway.
The large circular room
was cool but welcoming. A red and green carpet depicting archways filled the floor—a handful of worshippers kneeling among them. Above, rings of lights in glass holders cast a gentle glow. As Zara and Issey skirted further around the room, they stumbled over a collection of shoes.
Pulling their shoes off to add to the pile, Zara pointed to a plain office door on the far side of the church. A couple of locals turned to look at them. She smiled gently and pulled up the hood of her top to cover her head.
I hope this is not a mistake. I hope we have not risked these people’s lives.
They padded quietly around the room, desperately trying to go unnoticed. Zara strained to hear any commotion outside. But there were no gunshots, no shouting, nothing that sounded like Stella’s men had figured out where they were.
They reached the door, Issey cautiously pushing it open. It creaked as it swung, both of them cringing at the noise.
“This must be the imam’s office,” Zara whispered as they slipped inside.
“Yes, it is,” a voice replied from within.
10
MARIA
Xavier was in front, using the fading flashlight beam to light the way as they moved as fast as they could through the labyrinth. Dr. Dark was next to him, Maria close behind. Each person had a hand on the shoulder of the one in front so as not to trip in the dark.
As they wound their way through the tunnels, Maria realized that there was a pattern to the maze. “We’re headed toward something,” she said, catching up to Xavier. “The floor seems to go lower, like we are always going a little downhill.”
“That’s right,” Dr. Dark said. “We’re heading inward—there’s been a long series of left-hand turns. We’re getting closer to the centre.”
“The centre of what?” Cody asked from behind.
“The Giza Plateau, so the pyramids, I should think,” Dr. Dark said. “The water from the Nile was channelled through here. I understand that now, from seeing the water line—it makes sense. It would siphon through the labyrinth. Perhaps it came through when the river flooded each year, or maybe all year round.”