The Dream Catcher's Daughter

by Steven Fox

  He could hear and feel its laugh reverberating throughout his body and into his bones. No, he thought. Not now. Not now, please. But the laugh came again, almost mocking him. Then the flash of oily green flesh—the giant mouth opened beneath him and bit at his feet.

  He screamed, writhing in his chair. Tara and Jason tumbled, collapsing on the floor in a heap. Tara groaned. After untangling their limbs, he tried to help her up, but in a blink of an eye, Tara changed. She no longer had short brown hair, but long, neon-red hair. Narissa stood and dusted off her clothes, which seemed to reappear on her body out of nowhere. She didn’t look at Jason, but he could see the hurt in her face: No one had rejected her before.

  “I’m so, so sorry,” he said, standing, extending a hand. The server jerked away from him, shaking her head.

  “No, you’re really not.”

  She jumped into the air and rocketed off. Giant orbs of water floated behind her, a trail of tears marking her ragged path back to the kitchen. Jason stood there, unaware that Darlene and Len were next to him. Around them, everyone else enjoyed themselves, their faces stuffed with food. A few people opened their boxes to find people, just as Jason had. Half made out with these people, the others traded spots and were eaten by their meals.

  “You okay?” said Len.

  “Forth,” he said.

  “He’ll be fine,” said Darlene.

  They sat there for a few moments, no one willing to state the obvious. Then an intercom crackled, and a voice—the conductor’s voice—filtered in over the hum of dining:

  “If you’re ready to retire for the rest of the trip, cabins are prepared for use. Please, if you need a cabin, report to the one on your ticket stub.”

  ***

  They passed through about a dozen or so cars. Only a few of those cars were other cabin cars. One had been a bar, through which they were promptly and courteously escorted by legal-age train staff. On the other side of that cabin, Len grunted, puffing her cheeks.

  “Don’t get it,” she said. “You’d think they were hiding the Fountain of Youth in there.”

  When they reached their cabin car, they thought they had the wrong one. But Darlene glanced at their ticket stubs. “Nah, this is the car.”

  It looked more like a luxury hotel lobby than an actual train car. A twenty-foot marble statue stood in the middle of the room. The ceiling was vaulted. There were two floors, and the second floor had a balcony that ringed the inside of the lobby. Their stubs said the cabin was on the first floor, so they skirted the room’s edge, passing pedestals of tropical flowers. They found their room door unlocked. Inside was a suite nearly the size of two master bedrooms stuck together: two beds sat against one wall; a flat-screen television covered the wall opposite; a table and large desk stood in opposite corners just beyond the beds and T.V.; the master bath, complete with hot tub and stand-up shower, was to their immediate left.

  “Wow,” said Darlene. “Didn’t think I’d ever see something so fancy.”

  “I’m sure you’ve seen fancier,” said Jason. “Your dad’s the ambassador.”

  Darlene shrugged. “Maybe. But I’m liking this best, okay?”

  They situated themselves, Jason on his own bed. Darlene pulled a chair from the table and sat between the beds. When she bent over to pick up the chair, Jason saw Len, on the other bed, watching Darlene’s rump. Jason turned his attention to the key in his pocket—the key Len had tried to give him in the beginning. A lot of things weren’t adding up: For instance, if Len and her mistress couldn’t help Jason, why would the Guardian send him to the Catcher? Jason still had no idea what the key was about. And there was still the possibility that the Guardian had killed Len’s parents.

  He looked up, and saw Len’s eyes upon him. He held up the key. “The Dream Catcher gave you this, right?”

  “Mm-hm. She didn’t say much about it. Other than what I told you, anyway.”

  Jason nodded. That didn’t help his mind much, but he didn’t much care; he was tired, so fell back on the bed, its soft, feathery comforter gently conforming to his body. He felt warm, fuzzy. Now feels like a perfect time to take a nap, he thought, yawning. His eyes fluttered close, and he was ready to fall asleep.

  Len smacked him across the forehead. Jason jerked and shot up, rubbing his head. He glared at her.

  “Don’t do that,” she said.

  “Why not?”

  “If you haven’t noticed, we’re not exactly in Sheriffsburg anymore. We’re in the realm of dreams. And while I’ve never been here myself, I don’t think it’d be a good idea to sleep within a dream.”

  “Wouldn’t it just be like a dream inside a dream?”

  “I doubt it’s that simple.”

  Darlene stood and tip-toed over to the window at the far side of the room. She brushed aside the curtain and peered outside. Green and red flashed by the window, a lick of blue bursting in every few miles, flaring like an azure flame. A tree flickered by, and Jason thought it looked strikingly similar to the tree in his backyard. This reminded him of something. He turned back to Len.

  “I remember a dream from my childhood. A train crashed through my backyard. It tore down the apple tree and demolished half my house.” He leaned back again, staring up into the ceiling. “And I had it more than once. It always ended like that, too. Except, later, the dream would start with half my house already gone, and the train would just continue to destroy the apple tree.”

  Jason glanced at Len, and she was watching him. He saw something in her gaze, but in the next moment a wide smile covered it.

  “It’s just a silly dream,” she said. “Terrifying. But silly.”

  Len turned toward Darlene, who flashed her a suggestive grin. Len’s face blazed red, and she gave Darlene a little wave. Meanwhile, deep in the pit of his gut, Jason felt Len was wrong. Or lying.

  FIFTEEN

  The train pulled into the station only fifteen minutes later. Len and Darlene stared out the window while Jason hung by the door, peering out into the hall. But his eyes, too, stole glances out the window. Buildings of all shapes and sizes—some that didn’t even make sense—lined the roads. Ladders made of spider silk hooked onto hundreds of floating houses and offices, as if they were balloons swaying in the breeze. Streets wound between the grounded buildings. Some roads weren’t as well-behaved and liked to pull away from the earth, trailing up into the sky and twisting back down, forming a roller coaster loop-de-loop. Jason’s stomach seized; a shiver rippled up Darlene’s back. Far beyond the cluster of buildings and sky-looping roadways, a large tower loomed on the city’s edge. Behind it the sky was candy apple green, with purple clouds drifting by the tower’s peak. A mile-wide ring hooped around the tower’s middle, a balcony secured to the edge facing the city’s center. A wall scraped at the horizon of city sprawled out before them.

  “That must be the castle,” said Jason, pointing to the wall and the tower behind it.

  “Why’s that?” said Len.

  “Cuz it’s beautiful.”

  Darlene tilted her head. “Looks a little strange, don’cha think?”

  Jason didn’t think so, but the conductor’s voice, booming over the intercom, cut him off: “ATTENTION: WE ARE DISEMBARKING. REPEAT: GET YOUR BUTTS OFF THE TRAIN. OH, AND WELCOME TO THE GREAT CITY OF VISONIA!”

  The flood of dreams almost swept them away. No order at all, even when exiting the train. But Jason, Len, and Darlene foresaw this; they linked their arms when they left their room and didn’t let go until they cleared the train platform. On their way down the steps, Jason heard the conductor’s voice calling out from behind him:

  “REMEMBER! If you have a two-day ticket, you must return by then. You can return earlier, but if you miss the train…well, you’re stuck!”

  They separated about a block away from the train station, though Darlene and Len took their time unlinking their arms. Jason’s eyes were fixed on the sights before him: Up-close, the buildings appeared both crystalline and acrylic, yet solid and
flat. Jason rubbed his eyes and blinked several times, but the mirage-like facade remained.

  “Lordy,” said Darlene, looking around. “It’s so…trippy. Like we stepped right into a Lewis Carroll book.”

  “Dreams have that effect,” said Len. “Especially to those who aren’t asleep. Be careful.”

  They walked along the street. People, or their dreams, dashed down the sidewalks on either side. Others levitated on their backs only a few feet above them, as if lounging on invisible pool floats. Higher yet, others flew, dozens with arms spread wide, others with one fist held out and the other tucked to their chest. The road beneath them bucked, and Jason stumbled as the ground quivered and ripped loose from the earth. He glanced at Len and Darlene, who met his gaze; they sprinted off the road and into an alley. Their former road shot into the air, twisting into the rise of a roller-coaster. People in cars zoomed up one side of the road and shot off into the air, somehow taking flight despite the weight of their vehicles.

  “Let’s…um…stay away from roads,” said Darlene.

  They headed inside one of the nearby buildings, a three-story office complex with a glass pane façade. In the strange light, the building appeared to wink at them with dozens of green eyes. They pushed through the revolving door and into a normal-looking lobby. A wide-open reception area rested to one side, complete with chairs and tables topped with magazines. The other side mirrored its brother, except it possessed a television in one corner and a rack full of blank magazines. A large, round receptionist’s desk meant to be manned by five secretaries commanded the back of the lobby.

  “Where is everyone?” said Darlene.

  They couldn’t find a single trace of life. Jason tried turning on the television, and while the lights hanging from the ceiling were bright as the sun, the television wouldn’t even hum to life. He scratched his chin. Somehow, he knew what was happening, but couldn’t put his finger on it. He looked at Len, her eyes wide, and the realization clicked: It was a dream. A split second later, people with smooth white faces occupied every seat in the room. A line of them extended from the receptionist desk, which five people now manned. Four were white-faces, the fifth was an olive-skinned girl with long hair the color of leather tied back in a ponytail.

  It’s her, thought Jason. This is her dream.

  The girl slinked about, not exactly paying attention, but smiling at patrons and talking to them, even though the white-faces only replied in static. Once one customer was done, that customer walked from the front of the line to either of the waiting areas and sat in one of the remaining seats. A few moments later, one of the other sitting white-faces rose and stood in line. This repeated and repeated, yet no one seemed to notice. Not even the girl behind the desk.

  A few moments later, the revolving door spun and spat out a tall, rugged Caucasian boy in a leather jacket. He had gelled hair and wore a spiked collar. His leather biker’s vest was worn and emblazoned with some gang symbol. The guy smirked before cutting through the line. None of the white-faces seemed to notice or care. He walked up to the girl and slammed his hands down. He grinned wolfishly at her.

  “Hey babe,” he said. “What’s say you and me get the fuck outta here and go somewhere…a little more interesting?”

  The girl didn’t answer, nor had time to before the punk slammed his hands again, his mouth twisted in a scowl. “Dammit, what’s wrong with you? Too good for me? Little Miss Richie-Rich too good for a street rat like me?”

  The girl shook her head, stepping back.

  “Jason,” said Len, “let’s go. We shouldn’t be watching this.”

  But Jason didn’t move; he hadn’t heard Len. He was transfixed upon the girl and the punk. His jaw muscle ticked as he clenched his hands. When the punk grabbed the girl by her shirt, Jason ghosted forward, edging around the line and the desk, toward the back. Len called out for him, but he still couldn’t hear her. He sneaked behind the girl as the punk yanked her close. His jowls snapped, spit flying from his mouth. He looked more like a wild pig than a biker wannabe. Jason blinked, and realized that the punk’s face had turned into a pig’s head.

  The girl did nothing. Nothing except cry silently, her head rocking forward and back as the punk shook her. His words morphed into cries and squeals—about as understandable to Jason as to the girl, whose eyes stared listlessly into the punk’s slobbering, snorting face. Jason stood behind her, leaned in, and whispered into the girl’s left ear:

  “Why let him torture you?”

  “Because,” she whimpered, as though she weren’t being shaken, “he’ll kill mi hermanito. If I don’t give him what he wants…He’ll kill Michael…”

  Jason’s gaze flicked to the pig-face, then back to the girl. “Yeah, he has sharp tusks. But that doesn’t mean he can rule you. You’re tough, I can tell. Just imagine that he’s made of cotton candy. Yummy, tasty cotton candy, and invite everyone here to join in.”

  “What?”

  “Did you think these people around you were just blank faces? No, everyone’s different. And they’re people. People know how other people work. Maybe not all of them. But most of them, especially friends and family, know when someone needs help. Let them help you.”

  A hand hooked into the pig-punk’s left shoulder, and tore it away. Instead of blood and flesh, the arm turned into pink cotton candy. The Hispanic girl looked down at this with doe eyes. She glanced up at the man who took off the punk’s left arm. He was a muscular, dark-skinned man with long hair—her father.

  “Mi nina,” said the man.

  “Papa!”

  More and more of the blank-faced people transformed—some young, some old, all from different walks of life—and they tore into the pig-punk, ripping hunk after hunk of cotton candy-flesh from his shrinking body. After a while, nothing was left; the squeals faded. The girl stood proud, beaming at the crowd of people before her. Jason whispered in her ear: “See these people? They’re your friends and family. You made them. No one else. Comprende?” She nodded, and a single tear slid down her face. As it slipped off her chin and into the floor, the girl and her friends disappeared. Jason smiled. He felt breathless and exhilarated and—

  Then he collapsed.

  Len and Darlene rushed to him, patting his face, trying to make him come to. His eyes didn’t close; they stared into the ceiling while something happened. Something deep inside Jason changed. He didn’t know what, but he could feel it. Slowly, feeling returned to Jason’s limbs. He sat up, and Darlene wrapped him in a hug.

  “Don’t scare me like that!”

  Jason patted her on the shoulder. “Sorry. Don’t know what came over me.”

  Darlene wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “Well, it’s fine. Now that you’re okay.”

  Jason glanced at Len, who wore a faint smile. The rest of her face seemed on-edge, unsure. If he had been in Len’s shoes, he wouldn’t know what to think, either. Len’s uncertainty fell away, and her smile spread. “Welcome back to the land of the dreaming,” she said, chuckling. “What’s say we leave before getting caught in another dream?”

  ***

  They hopped from building to building, only using the road if it were on the ground and planning to stay there. They forgot this one time and were lifted twenty feet into the air before they leapt into an open second-story window. They landed in a well-furnished yet person-less living room. Jason took a seat and told the others it was safe. Len and Darlene still hesitated, but did sit down on a plush loveseat together. Jason toyed with the necklace Len had given him, the charm that would protect him if the need should ever arise. In this terrorland, there’d come a time.

  He didn’t see how they were going to find Leech and Talshe. In this place, they could be anywhere. Darlene was leaning forward. Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized the walls of the living room. She stood, and moved toward the television set. A picture was tacked to the wall above it. Darlene perched her brow before slowly turning to Jason and Len.

  “Guys, this is gonna sound weird�
�but I think we’re standing in my apartment.”

  “Your apartment?” said Jason. “The one you and your sister live in?”

  Darlene nodded. Len stood and glanced about. She ran a hand back through the tangle of her gray hair. “Well, it’s possible. If a place is dreamed about often enough, it could become a permanent residence in this world. I’m still not sure how it all works.”

  “Geez, and I thought you were an expert!” said Darlene. Len’s eyes widened, and Jason thought she looked hurt, but Len straightened up and stalked toward the window.

  “I do have a theory.” She poked her head out the window. Jason and Darlene followed. “The theory is that, while this apartment is part of Sheriffsburg in our world, it must be part of Sheriffsburg in this world. Take a look.”

  The road they had run down before landing in this living room was almost an exact replica of downtown Sheriffsburg, minus the shimmering mirage that covered everything. There was the bridge, not far from them. Even Silver Moon Grocery stood, though it appeared ten times bigger than it actually was. Over the bridge—though Jason felt certain it was too close to the bridge—

  “Is that the high school?” said Darlene, pointing a finger exactly where Jason was looking.

  “If Sheriffsburg is here,” said Len, “then the high school must also be here.”

  “We should go there,” said Jason.

  “Why? There’s nothing we need.”

  Jason shook his head. “The first place I spotted the twins was at the elementary. How do we know Talshe or Leech won’t go to the high school and wait for us?”

  “We don’t know, Jason. For all we know, they could be stalking us right now.”

  “True, but what other lead do we have? Unless you want to wait for Leech or Talshe.”

  Len pursed her lips. For a moment, Jason thought Len did look old. She rubbed her temples, a thing he’d seen his father do time and again. It made him feel so young and insignificant, like he knew nothing. But the dreams were his. He knew them better than anyone. Heaving a sigh, Len said, “Fine. We’ll do it your way. But you better be prepared to use that charm if anything happens. You’re still important.” And her eyes fell to the charm hanging from Jason’s neck, then to his pocket that held the rusty key. “Very important.”