Sign of the Sandman

by Tom Turner

  “You are not in control,” he sneered, grinding his fangs. “I can still smell your fear.”

  “You’re wrong,” said Charlie. “I’m not afraid of spiders. And I’m not afraid of you.”

  “You have been afraid your whole life!”

  Moloch charged, but Charlie swung his sword. The blade tore through Moloch’s front legs, slicing two from under him. He stumbled, and the darkness of the dream began to break. It was like a chain reaction. Pieces of roof tile collapsed to the floor. Windows that had been black as night, shattered. Light streamed into the room from every end, and the remaining spiders quickly skittered away, their webs dissolving.

  Plug wiggled free from his cocoon and dropkicked a charging spider across the room. It crumbled like a cheap piñata.

  “Ha!” he shouted. “Last time you try crawling up on a brother with a grudge!”

  Moloch limped into the shadows. His remaining joints creaked under the weight of his body as he struggled to stay upright. Charlie followed, sword raised, ready to finish his foe. He stepped into the darkness, but a blast of web knocked him onto his back and the sword from his grip. Pain surged through Charlie’s body. He wasn’t sure what just happened, but when he tried to move his arm, pain overwhelmed him again. He glanced down and spotted what looked like the tip of a spear poking through his shoulder. He had landed atop one of the spider legs he’d severed seconds earlier. The claw had impaled him just below the collarbone, skewering him like a kabob. Blood bubbled from the wound, oozing through his sweatshirt.

  Moloch’s red eyes flared in the darkness.

  “You may control the dream,” he growled, “but you are still part human, still vulnerable.”

  Charlie could see Moloch’s silhouette inching toward him. He could feel it, too. The closer Moloch got, the more pain Charlie felt. His shoulder throbbed, pulsing faster. He couldn’t move. The pain was paralyzing, like bathing in fire.

  Moloch climbed over top of him and raised another pointed claw. Its deadly tip dangled above Charlie’s rib cage like a guillotine blade waiting for release.

  “Consider this a gift,” snarled Moloch. “The chance to see your father once more!”

  Seconds seemed like minutes as the claw dropped toward Charlie’s chest. He closed his eyes and braced for the burn.

  It never came.

  Instead, Charlie heard the sound of a familiar voice echoing against the clash of metal and bone.

  “Get away from him!” it said.

  Charlie opened his eyes. His mother stood over him, clutching his sword. She had blocked Moloch’s strike, and her kind eyes now displayed the unyielding strength of a parent protecting its child.

  “Leave my son alone!” she screamed.

  She swung the blade and backed Moloch against the wall, holding him at bay.

  Plug sprinted to Charlie’s side, freeing his shoulder from Moloch’s claw. Charlie winced as the barb slipped from his flesh.

  “That was close,” said Plug, applying pressure to the wound.

  “Too close,” gulped Charlie.

  Charlie’s mother took another swing at Moloch, nearly lopping off his head.

  “And I thought your dad was the warrior!” grinned Plug.

  Charlie smiled through the pain. His mom had toughed her way through much in life. It was just one of the many things he admired about her, learned from her. She was a fighter. Now it was his turn. He gritted his teeth and stared into the wall behind Moloch. His spine stiffened and a golden beam of light fired from his eyes, etching the sign of the Sandman into the wall’s surface.

  “Cool,” said Plug. “Very Superman of you.”

  The wall exploded, revealing a golden door on the other side. It was made of sand and hummed with energy and light.

  Charlie took the sword from his mother and shoved Moloch against the door. His heart beat like a war drum, and he stared Moloch in the eye, the way he had seen Old West gunfighters do it. Then he clenched the hilt of the sword, and its shaft ignited in flame.

  “Time to end this,” he said.

  The door swung open, engulfing them in bright white light, and Charlie was about to push Moloch through when Moloch grabbed him.

  “Stop,” he pleaded. His voice was oddly kind. “Please…”

  It caught Charlie off guard. He hesitated, and when he blinked, Moloch was gone. In his place, the Sandman stared back, smiling warmly.

  “Dad?”

  “Don’t do this, son,” he said.

  “Charlie! What are you waiting for?” Plug shouted.

  Charlie didn’t respond. His mind was in a fog, his heart holding him back.

  “This is wrong,” said his father. “It’s not who you are.” He smiled again, but this time his lip curled, and beneath it Charlie spied a row of fangs.

  “No, it’s exactly who I am,” he said, calling Moloch’s bluff. “I’m my father’s son. And this is for him!”

  Charlie thrust his sword into Moloch’s chest and kicked him through the doorway. Moloch let out a final bellow as a whirlpool of sand and light sucked him down and he disappeared from sight.

  Rustam was fending off an attack when an explosion of orange and gold fired into the sky, originating from Charlie’s mother’s dream portal. The energy of the blast ripped through the Hall of Archetypes, shredding Moloch’s furies with instant and violent force.

  Rustam lowered his weapon. He looked down at the medallion that hung from his neck and watched the fracture seal, becoming whole again. A smile crept over his face, and when he looked up, Charlie’s silhouette appeared in the dream portal. Rustam pulled him into a strong embrace.

  Charlie grimaced, grasping his shoulder.

  “You’re injured,” said Rustam.

  Charlie nodded. “I’ll be fine,” he said, stepping past Rustam, concerned by an even greater pain: Remi. His heart ached at the sight of her, still entombed by Moloch’s black sand. He knew what had to be done. He approached the crystal basin and took a pinch of the Sands of Time. He rolled the grains between his fingers and sprinkled them over Remi. The grains hung in the air before dropping like tiny snowflakes over her face. The black sand dissolved.

  Remi coughed, gasping for air. Charlie took her hand and helped her up, pulling her free from the black pit.

  “Thank you,” she said, hugging Charlie, tears filling her eyes.

  “You were right,” he replied, leaning into her. “About everything. I never could have done it without you.”

  “Yes, you could.” She hugged him again, kissing his cheek. “I knew. I always knew.”

  “Even when I didn’t,” said Charlie. “Thank you for believing in me.” He turned toward Rustam. “Both of you.”

  “Your father would be proud,” replied Rustam.

  Then he smiled, pointing toward Charlie’s wound. The same grains that had freed Remi floated up to Charlie’s shoulder, healing it on contact. Once the wound closed, the grains drifted back into the crystal basin.

  Suddenly, the basin unleashed a powerful energy that spread throughout the Hall of Archetypes. The tapestry of occurring dreams in the vaulted ceiling danced once more with colorful visions, and the statues’ torches, once dim, fired back to life. Their flames warmed the chamber with a dazzling glow that carried through the walls to every castle turret and tower. Streams of sand rocketed skyward, washing away Moloch’s darkness until the castle shined like a desert jewel once more.

  Then, with Charlie and the castle as its epicenter, the sand streams spiraled across the Dreamscape. They soared like fingers of God searching for lost children, dissolving black sand and freeing every entombed guardian from the clutches of evil. The pink and purple hues of twilight returned. Dream portals, once trapped by Moloch’s evil, appeared by the millions. Their vivid colors lit up the desert sky.

  Charlie watched from the triple-arched wind
ow in the Hall of Archetypes as dream spawn too numerous to count entered their freed dream portals, returning home. He turned from the window and greeted Rustam and Remi with a proud smile. They lowered their heads, bowing in reverence, but Charlie raised their eyes to meet his, indicating they need not bow to him. Not ever. Together they turned and looked out over the Dreamscape. For the first time in a long while, all was at peace.

  “Hey! Meathead! Over here!” Plug yelled from below.

  He trudged through the emerald green oasis, which was again teeming with life. His shirt was wrapped around his head like a Swami’s turban, and he grew more frustrated with each tangled step he took toward the castle.

  “Next time, get me out of the dream before we kick the bad guy into the volcano of light!” he barked. “I got shot out way the heck over there in the desert. I had to walk like a hundred miles just to— Whoa—”

  One of the magical vines sprang from the oasis and wrapped around Plug’s ankle, lifting him into the air. He dangled like a tubby earring above the castle steps.

  “Put me down! Put me down!” he shouted. “Charlie, tell them I’m with you!”

  The vine obeyed. It flung Plug upward toward the castle. He screamed and was about to swan dive into the white sand beach when two guardians swooped in and caught him. They flew him to the castle window, bringing him face to face with Charlie.

  “Can we go home now?” asked Plug, looking a little green.

  Charlie grinned and nodded. But first, there was one last thing he needed to do.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  A DREAM COME TRUE

  The majestic throne room of the Sandman’s castle sparkled like an untapped gold mine. A shimmering gold carpet ran down its center, and a chain of crystal chandeliers lined its mosaic ceiling. Charlie stared up at the mosaics in wonder. He figured the most brilliant of dreams must have inspired them. Perhaps the dreams of princes and kings! But the pictures were as breathtaking as they were simple — a mother cradling her infant, a child opening a gift on Christmas morning, a couple kissing in the snow. The images were calming, happy, and magical. But even the grandest of them could not compare to what Charlie and Plug had just been through. They had traveled long and far, not knowing if they would ever see home again. Now that time was finally upon them.

  Rustam, Unity, and Remi stood with Charlie and Plug. Remi’s parents were there, too. Charlie could see Remi’s strength in their eyes and her beauty in her mother’s smile.

  “Because of your courage,” said Rustam to Charlie, “the dreams of men are free. Thank you.”

  “No. Thank you,” replied Charlie as he turned. “For telling me the truth about my father… about everything. And for always protecting me, even when I didn’t know it.”

  Rustam smiled. He stepped aside, allowing Unity to come forward. Unity lowered himself to meet Charlie’s eyes. He was gentle, almost grandfatherly, and no longer possessed the steely gaze of someone possessed by Moloch’s evil.

  “I am sorry I gave in to fear,” he said. “I let it consume me.”

  “We were all scared,” said Charlie.

  “You have your father’s good heart,” replied Unity. “His strength. And his eyes.”

  Charlie beamed with pride.

  Rustam knelt down. “There will be a time when you are called to return here,” he said. “Evil always finds a way to rise, and you will be needed should it reappear. But for now, you must return home.” He placed his hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “No one on the other side can know who you are. Not even your mother. You must carry this secret with you all your days.”

  “I understand,” said Charlie.

  “That goes for you, too,” Rustam said to Plug. “You keep an eye on him.”

  Plug saluted. “I’m on it. Maybe you should get me some wings or something.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” replied Rustam.

  “Seriously? I can totally fly! I’m almost eleven!”

  Plug was jubilant. So, too, was Charlie. He turned, and his eyes connected with Remi’s. She seemed almost human, softer and delicate. Her hair was down. It rested on her shoulders, and her soft curls set off her golden eyes and kind smile. Charlie had just faced unimaginable evil and saved the human race from near-certain destruction, but that was nothing compared to the nerve it took for him to say goodbye to her. They had been through so much together, and Charlie wasn’t sure he would have made it without her. She had believed in him even when he didn’t believe in himself.

  “I wish you could come with me,” he said.

  “Me too,” she replied. “I will miss you.”

  Charlie took her hand and squeezed tight, wishing the space that separated their worlds were but an illusion. “Keep watch over me,” he said to her.

  “Every night, by your side.”

  Remi kissed Charlie, and his feet nearly left the ground.

  Plug couldn’t hold back a giggle, but quickly stopped when Remi looked his way.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled.

  Remi smiled. “Bye, Plug,” she said. “I’ll miss you, too.”

  “Same here,” he replied. “You’re really cool… for a girl.”

  He extended his hand like a politician, but Remi pulled him in and planted a big kiss on his cheek.

  “Now you kissed a girl,” teased Charlie.

  “Shut up!” said Plug, blushing furiously. “Dibs...”

  Charlie grinned, then took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The sign of the Sandman blazed upon his palms, and a dream portal materialized before them. Its purple glow cast a soft light over the room.

  “Ready, Plug?” asked Charlie.

  “Let’s do it,” he answered.

  Charlie looked back one last time. He waved as they crossed into the portal, leaving the Dreamscape behind.

  Almost instantly, they stepped through a funhouse mirror tucked into the corner of a penny arcade. Bells and whistles sounded out, and the people around them were dressed funny, as if in an old movie.

  “Your mom’s dreaming about amusement parks?” Plug asked, a bit confused.

  “Not really,” replied Charlie. “I was thinking about what you said. How everything happens for a reason. Maybe you, too, ended up in the Dreamscape for a reason.”

  “Me? What’s my reason?”

  “So you could talk to her,” said Charlie.

  “Talk to who?” Plug didn’t seem to understand.

  Then Charlie handed him his nana’s watch. Plug looked around, suddenly realizing where they were.

  “Coney Island?” he asked, as his eyes filled with tears.

  Charlie nodded, and Plug smothered him in a bear hug.

  “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you! Thank you!”

  Charlie followed Plug out of the arcade. It was a warm summer evening. Music played, and an ocean breeze carried the smell of taffy, hot dogs, and salty ocean air across the boardwalk. Plug seemed so excited he was tripping over his own feet.

  They weaved through a maze of happy faces. Young lovers strolled hand-in-hand. Parents dragged kids in tow, arms filled with gifts and prizes won in carnival games of skill and chance.

  “Wow,” said Charlie, looking around. “Your nana wasn’t kidding. This place really used to be something special.”

  Charlie and Plug followed the sounds of music and laughter. They watched as a group of Navy seamen chased some pretty girls onto a dance floor beneath the cover of an ocean-side pavilion. A big band struck up a new song, one that got Plug’s legs moving. He began to twist, turn, hop and bop.

  “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy! I know this,” he said. “My nana taught me how to jitterbug!” He whirled around, searching. “Where do you think she is? I don’t see her anywhere.”

  Before Charlie could answer, Plug snapped his fingers and dashed over to a nearby cotton-candy cart.

/>   “Excuse me,” he asked the cart operator. “Could you tell me which way to the Ferris wheel?”

  “Sure thing, young fella,” said the cotton-candy man. He pointed with a freshly spun, sugary spool. “Just up ahead, a little further.”

  Charlie’s eyes followed the direction of the cotton candy. The rainbow-colored lights of an amusement park twinkled in the distance. Rising above it all was the most magnificent Ferris wheel Charlie had ever laid eyes on.

  “Thanks, Mister!” said Plug, as he snatched the cotton-candy spool from the guy’s hand and ran off into the crowd.

  “Hey!” shouted the candy man.

  “Sorry! I’m starving!”

  Charlie and Plug sprinted down the boardwalk toward the Ferris wheel. Plug’s excitement seemed to grow with every step. His smile was ear-to-ear and stained with pink sugar from the cotton candy. When they reached the ride, Plug pushed his way to the head of the line.

  “Hey! Wait your turn, kiddo,” shouted a man from the crowd. “We were here first!”

  “But you don’t understand!” pleaded Plug. “This is—”

  “Back of the line!” the man barked again.

  Before Plug could respond, the line vanished and the Ferris wheel stopped. Plug turned to Charlie.

  “You do that?” he asked.

  Charlie smiled and winked. He pointed to the entrance at the foot of the wheel. Plug’s eyes lit up.

  “Nana!” he shouted.

  She sat on the swinging chair. She had kind, brown eyes, plump cheeks, and a tuft of curly white hair that seemed as soft as the spool of cotton candy Plug held in his hand. She looked almost nothing like the sickly woman Charlie and Plug had visited in the hospital just two days earlier. Her forehead wrinkled as she flashed Plug a loving smile and waved him over. A beautiful purple halo surrounded her.

  “I’ll wait for you down here,” said Charlie.

  Plug ran to his nana and threw himself into her arms. He gave her a big kiss, and Charlie watched as they were wheeled into flight, up above the Coney Island boardwalk. Charlie’s soul danced with joy. In this moment, in his best friend’s smile, he finally understood the true power of a dream.