Dr. S. wants to know how this new part of my Gift works. I ain’t always great with explanations as that’s more Nadia’s thing than mine, but I’ll do my best. Dreams are often memories, emotions, fears, and expectations jumbled up like the thought equivalent of meatballs. This new part of my Gift is like hands digging through those meatballs and picking out the onions. I think I lost Dr. S. ’cause she’s looking at me funny.
People have many more dreams than the ones they consciously remember. I can dig through these dreams and piece together the memories that spawned ’em. I got the idea from my time working hard in Nadia’s dreams. She once asked me to put together a memory from the storm of shards swirling in her head.
Since these dream memories are things past, one could be tempted to ask what good they can do. I think they can do a lot of good. I’m going more than half-crazy here ’cause I don’t know what happened to Nadia and the others on the day they switched labs. Did they get where they was going? Are they safe? Why won’t they let Nadia wake up? This new aspect of my Gift could give me those answers and more.
***
ITEM 182: Jillian’s 90th post-kidnapping journal entry
Item Source: Jillian Blairington
One of the biggest problems with my new skill is finding a dreamer to hunt within. I imagine it’s like being a detective, only a lot more frustrating. The drug that knocked Nadia out keeps her beyond my reach for now. I think she’ll have to start the contact when she can for me to find her dreams. Dr. Devya’s mind almost always lies past my abilities. He’s one of the few people in the world who actually bothers guarding his mind against a Gift like mine. Most everybody else can’t imagine such a thing existing.
Several days’ worth of work scouring dreams for a familiar sense let me stumble upon my Second Momma, Dr. Carnasis. The contact didn’t last long, but I put a mark on her so I could find her later. If I’d been smarter about the whole thing, I woulda marked everybody before they left Dr. Devya’s old set of labs and saved myself the trouble of tracking ’em down now. Since it was almost time to wake up, I quickly searched for recent memory fragments mentioning Nadia and stored ’em for later.
Cora appeared before my mind’s eye, gazing back at me intently. I tried to change the perspective, but I didn’t have enough memory pieces for that to work well. I let the memory play anyway.
“Will you be all right?” asked Cora. Genuine concern filled her question.
“Dean is a fool, and this is a terrible plan,” declared Dr. Carnasis’s voice. It sounded like it was coming from me, which made sense as the memory belonged to my Second Momma.
It was a little strange, but since I really wanted to know what they had to say, I ignored the odd feeling.
I felt Cora’s cool hand land on Dr. Carnasis’s left arm. Anger and frustration boiled inside my Second Momma, but she fought it hard ’cause she didn’t want to take it out on her friend. That notion caught me up again. Guess I never thought too much about Cora and my Second Momma being friends.
“The plan is not the question at hand,” Cora insisted. She lightly squeezed my Second Momma’s arm before releasing her grip. “I know you don’t like the idea of a move right now, but the hospital incident is proof that the Guardians’ patience with us is quickly ending.”
My Second Momma sighed deeply, and everything went dark for a moment, which I think means she blinked.
“We should trust Nadia. These sorts of plans are exactly what we’ve trained her for. Dean’s mistrust is not a good sign.”
Tilting her head to the side, Cora asked, “Would you feel better traveling with Nadia?”
“Dean won’t like it,” my Second Momma said.
“Don’t tell him,” Cora said with a playful smile. Letting the smile slip, she added, “And I would welcome the chance to travel with Dustin. I don’t get to see him enough.”
“You know either one means traveling with Andre or Darren, right?” my Second Momma asked.
Cora shrugged.
“They’re not my favorite people, but they’re both fair drivers. The extra time with Dustin will make the … inconvenience worth it.”
The dream memory ended, but I let the image stay so I could study Cora. Her last expression contained much more vulnerability than I expected. For a long time, I’ve known she is Dustin’s momma, but the fact suddenly meant more to me.
The remaining fragments weren’t enough to form a full memory. Even put together, they barely formed a few snapshots. One displayed three large white trucks lined up like they was fixing to start a race. Another showed three gurneys being wheeled toward the white trucks by somber security men. Nadia’s peaceful, unconscious face filled the third image, and the last image featured a grim-faced guy watching Cora carefully.
I wanted to dwell on Nadia, but the image of the man seized my attention and wouldn’t let go. His expression meant trouble. An urgent need to reach through the dream and warn Cora grabbed me, but since this was a memory, the moment had long since passed.
Chapter 2:
The Tyler Family
ITEM 183: Danielle’s fifty-first letter
Item Source: Danielle Matheson
Dear Dr. S.,
I love Karen’s little sister! Her full name is Eleanor Caitlyn Tyler, but everybody calls her Ellie. She’s got this irrepressible spirit that lights up every room she enters. In a way, she reminds me of the Old Jillian. I’m not saying the New Jillian is all doom and gloom, but she’s definitely more jaded, worldly, aware, or something. I’m not sure what word I’m searching for, so I’ll return to the point if the right word strikes me.
My sister, Katy, definitely fell in love with Ellie on sight. Ellie has Down syndrome. I know it’s not politically correct to zero in on something like that, but the condition gives Ellie her endearing innocence. The kid singlehandedly shattered the potential awkwardness of meeting the Tyler family.
We had narrowly arrived first, so my stuff severely limited the amount of floor space, not that there was much to begin with. Mom, Dylan, and Katy lay sprawled across the unmade bottom bunk, exhausted from hauling stuff up ten-ish flights of stairs. That’s right, ten. Room 1008 to be precise. I mention that because it’s the second to last one down the left side of the Travers tower. There are elevators, but given the amount of people moving in today, the stairs are definitely faster. Dad perched against one of the two bland, wooden desks, and I stood in the midst of the chaos trying to determine where to start unpacking.
A knock announced the Tyler family, but before anybody could move, a girl bounded in and shouted, “Hello! I’m Ellie!” She thrust a hand toward me to shake.
“Ellie!” a woman’s mortified admonishment followed the girl into the room. “Come back here.”
“It’s no problem. Come on in. The more the merrier,” my father assured the three people huddled in the doorway.
Chuckling, I solemnly shook Ellie’s hand.
“Hello, Ellie. I’m Danielle. It’s very nice to meet you.” As I finished my greeting, Ellie snatched back her hand, barreled over to the lower bunk, and gave the same hearty greeting to the bulk of my family. I turned to watch their reactions. Mom kept her cool. Dylan was shy, and Katy was smitten.
“That’s Ellie for you,” observed a soft voice from over my left shoulder. “Always the subtle one.”
Introductions and pleasantries zipped around the room. To date, I’d exchanged a few emails with my new roommate, Karen Tyler, but it was still neat to meet the real deal. Most of our previous conversations had revolved around important details like who would bring the microwave. Upon advice from my father, I volunteered for that honor.
Almost doubling the amount of people in the room caused the temperature to skyrocket. Movement became hazardous, so Mom invited Mrs. Tyler and Ellie to go with her on an exploratory walk. Thus, she and my siblings abandoned Dad and me to the task of helping Karen and her father gather the rest of her college supplies.
I didn’t mind. It offered me the
first real chance to talk to her. Our fathers got ahold of a hand truck and wrestled the mini-refrigerator into place. Since they’d have to wait for the elevator, Karen and I swiped the car keys and made a few extra trips on our own. A few bright-eyed, cheerful people joined us on the last trip up. I silently blessed their sense of timing since I wasn’t relishing hauling the huge case of water or the equally massive case of Gatorade.
When we entered the room, I sensed something different. Our fathers were both on their knees by the mini-refrigerator. They stopped talking and turned to face us with twin, terrifying, knowing grins.
“Dad?” Karen asked cautiously, pausing in the doorway.
“What’d we miss?” I demanded of my father.
“Nothing,” Dad replied. His innocent tone didn’t fool me.
I rolled my eyes as Karen grunted and muttered, “They’ve probably been exchanging embarrassing stories.”
One glance at their slightly guilty expressions convinced me I didn’t want to know, so I changed the subject.
“Do we want the beds bunked?” I asked Karen. I figured we may as well hash that out before releasing our fathers from move-in duties.
“Where do you want these?” asked a young man from the hallway. He shrugged to indicate the case of water filling his arms.
Karen and I exchanged a look that said we’d both forgotten about the help carrying a month’s worth of liquids and the last of Karen’s worldly goods up the stairs. Karen quickly directed the caravan of helpers into a semi-clear corner before profusely thanking them and expertly ushering them out. I stifled the urge to release an impressed whistle.
“I think we should keep the bunk beds,” Karen said, picking up the conversation as if nothing had interrupted. “What do you think?”
I think that was the moment I knew this relationship would work out fine.
“It’ll leave us with a little more leg room,” I noted with a half-shrug, to show her that I didn’t hold a strong opinion either way.
“May I have the bottom one?” Karen asked, shocking me.
Katy and Dylan about come to blows over the top bunk. The idea of somebody actually wanting the bottom one was completely foreign to me.
“Ellie won’t sleep in the top bunk, so if she ever came to visit overnight we’d need the bottom one anyway,” Karen explained. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Not at all,” I answered. “My sister would never forgive me if I turned down a chance at the top bunk.”
“You girls should settle in before making sleepover arrangements,” said Mr. Tyler.
“We should find our wives and other progeny,” commented my father.
Who uses words like “progeny”? I flushed with embarrassment, but Karen merely smiled and shot me an understanding nod.
Although it made me a wee bit nervous, we released our fathers from further unpacking duties and tackled the enormous task ourselves. After clearing it with me, Karen hooked up her laptop and accessed a lively playlist from somewhere.
We chatted about our old high school activities while making our beds and arranging the closets. I told her about my sporadic sports career, and she confessed involvement in the science league and a writing club. She would have gone out for the school play too, but couldn’t make the time commitment. As I dug deeper, Karen explained that it would have limited the time she could spend with Ellie. The level of devotion was humbling.
I love Katy, but I never let time with her dictate my school activities.
“Wow, you must really love your sister.”
“I do,” Karen affirmed. Her serious tone drew my eyes. “I … almost lost her, or rather, she almost lost me.” Her words picked up pace, and I could tell she was making a huge effort to keep from saying more.
“How?” I fired the query without much grace because she had surprised me. The shirt I held slipped half off the hanger I was currently wrestling with. I sensed a confession coming, but I couldn’t fathom what it could be.
Karen struck me as the sweetest kid you’d ever meet. She muted the music, shut the door, and turned on both small fans before sitting on her freshly made bed.
“Do you read the papers or internet articles?”
“Only the headlines that pop up on my homepage,” I confessed.
Drawing and releasing a breath, Karen said, “Mom says I should get it out in the open so you’ll understand if I have a meltdown now and then.”
I stifled the urge to laugh because my mother had uttered similar advice.
“I was kidnapped a few weeks ago by a man named Ryker ….”
A greatly abbreviated version of Karen’s story poured out in a matter of minutes. I had to scrape my jaw off the floor, and I dropped one of my good shirts when I heard about Malia’s involvement. Luckily, Karen was too engrossed in the telling to notice my reaction. At first, I marveled at what a small world we live in, but an instant later, I concluded the coincidences were too big to be natural.
Drawing the logical conclusion, I thought, Nadia.
I really shouldn’t be surprised that Jillian’s sister arranged to bring us together as roommates, but the amount of foresight that shows is staggering. Nadia couldn’t have known Karen would get kidnapped, right? If she had known, she would have stopped it. I think. I’ll have to ask her if she ever talks to me again. I really hope she contacts Jillian, me, or Varick soon. This new round of quietness is summoning bad memories.
“Please don’t tell anyone,” Karen said, reclaiming my attention from the depressing musings about Nadia. “I don’t think I can take the pity.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” I vowed. Eventually, I’ll tell her what I can of my own adventures with Jillian, Christy, and Malia, but the timing simply wasn’t right.
My phone rang then blared out the news that I should pick up the phone because my “mama is calling.”
Thinking, Kill Dylan later, I dove across the room and hit the accept button. I silently forgave my idiot brother a moment later when I saw Karen’s amused expression. A short conversation ensued. After that, I informed my roommate that we were both being beckoned to dinner.
The meal at Applebees passed pleasantly. Dylan and Katy cracked jokes and otherwise vied for opportunities to impress Karen’s sister. Ellie charmed everybody, including the waiter, and Karen and I got to know each other better. As the evening wound down, Dad and Mr. Tyler had the world’s politest disagreement over who would pay the check while Mom and Mrs. Tyler split the check fifty-fifty and actually paid the bill. It’s almost scary how well our families functioned together.
The New College Kid,
Danielle Matheson.
Chapter 3:
Beyond the Throne Room
ITEM 184: Jillian’s 91st post-kidnapping journal entry
Item Source: Jillian Blairington
I sort of found Nadia last night, but it didn’t do me much good ’cause the map thing Dr. Das made me ages ago only went far enough to locate Benny. My sense of direction ain’t a strong suit, but I could tell Nadia was way west of where Benny was found in Pennsylvania, the state next to the money sign state where I live.
Welcome back, Jillian. Queen Elena’s voice spoke from the air as soon as my avatar appeared in the throne room. I apologize for not greeting you in person. Naidine and I have much more work than previously anticipated. If you would like to help, please find the writing desk and keep us informed of the happenings in the world. The darkness is much deeper this time. We can and will conquer it in time, but I cannot tell you how long that will take. Thank you for coming.
Her words didn’t make a lot of sense to me, so I made the message repeat itself a dozen times. The throne room in Nadia’s dreams appeared the same as before except for a blank wall in place of where the huge entry doors used to stand. I say “blank” but that ain’t completely accurate. Instead of holding doors like it used to, the wall looked like the other three. They’re pretty with golden sconces holding candlesticks and tasteful paintings hanging
real regular-like. I never paid much attention to the paintings before ’cause the crystal chandeliers kinda hog the limelight.
Gazing upward, I studied the chandeliers. They still winked at me in sparkly majesty, but something was different today. Curious, I bid the nearest chandelier to come down to eye level so I could see it better. The difference leapt out at me, causing my stomach to clench like it was bracing for a good punch. Each crystal held an image of a memory, but the picture didn’t move as it had before when I was trying to wake Nadia from the last blasted coma. The absolute stillness disturbed me on a whole new level.
Reaching out, I touched one of the crystals and waited to get sucked into the memory. The tiny image in the crystal moved forward, displaying the right scene, but it stopped again as soon as I released the crystal. Frustrated, I sent the whole chandelier back up to where it belonged and sighed.
“How am I supposed to find a writing desk if there ain’t doors or windows in this place?” I had my avatar speak the words aloud to fill some of the emptiness. Four long seconds ticked by while I waited for an answer. Finally, my head realized what my sinking heart already knew: Nadia was in far deeper trouble than before.
The knowledge made me angry, filling me with a frantic need to act. I sank to my knees, placed both hands against the cool floor, and stretched out with my Gifts. This might be a stiff, uncooperative dream, but it was still a dream and it would obey me.
The first step in controlling the throne room dream was to send my senses throughout every part. Three paintings highlighted themselves as important, shining briefly with blue-white light like something straight from one of Varick’s video games. I summoned the three paintings and instructed ’em to do their thing. Typically, I like to be more specific, but I wasn’t rightly sure what the paintings were supposed to do. Fortunately, they knew.
Varick's Quest (Devya's Children Book 4) Page 2