Cathedral of Dreams

by Terry Persun

  Brent stepped close. “You've got to show us where you came out. We're going to backtrack and get back inside.”

  “And do what?” Keith said.

  Will answered the question. “Stay. As long as we don't disrupt anything, we'll be cared for. It's peaceful. Newcity is enormous. They'll never find us.”

  Will's thinking was accurate. Nellie and her friends had been living in Newcity without being detected. But they wanted out. “You won't like it,” Keith said. “It won't take long and you'll want back out.”

  “We're not all alike,” Brent said. The others nodded in agreement.

  Stacy reached and touched Keith's arm gently. “You were sent to help us return. Being outside isn't for everyone. You've got to know that.”

  “It wasn't for Sam, even though he was born outside,” Molly said.

  “What about Bradley? His plan?” Keith said.

  Will raised his hand and lowered his eyes. “We drew straws and I lost.”

  Rebecca, who stood beside him, laid her head over onto his shoulder. “I'm staying with him.”

  “We're going to tell them what Bradley is up to,” Brent said. “He'll never get near Newcity. He has a few hundred people at best. His weapons are old. It'll be easy to stop him.

  “Then they'll chip us and put us back in,” Will said. “It's not our first choice, but it's happened to others before.” Will raised his eyes and begged Keith, “Unless you volunteer to warn them. It would be a sacrifice.”

  “Maybe that's what you're supposed to do,” Stacy said. “After all, you are the boy with the bullet hole in your forehead.”

  “And the angel?” Keith said.

  “We believe that she'll appear to us once we get back inside,” Stacy said. “We'll have the best of both worlds.”

  Keith knew that they were trying to convince him, persuade him to go along. And at some point in the conversation he wasn't sure who was right and who was wrong. His few days outside had been unbelievably beautiful and horrible at the same time. Standing there, amongst them, he honestly couldn't decide what was best for him. How could he decide what was best for them? He prayed for the boy to whisper something. He pleaded internally to whatever power that had brought him this far, but nothing came, nothing contacted him on any level.

  He was lost.

  “And the others?” he said, pointing to Harold and his family.

  “We're going with you,” Harold answered. “We'll get to stay with our own kids.”

  The woman put an arm around Harold and Keith glanced at the other man who was with them.

  “My brother-in-law,” the woman said, in answer to the unasked question.

  The children stood back, shy and quiet, which made Keith wonder, once again, if they weren't right that some people aren't suited for the outside world.

  The night air was still except for the breeze that came from the highway every once in a while. Brent stared into Keith's eyes waiting for him to say something more, but Keith didn't make a decision one way or the other. He was unable to. Seeing Will's face, and Rebecca's, both resolved to be dulled down by getting chipped again, to experience a false sense of peace, placed a great weight on Keith's heart. How could he deny them what they longed for?

  “We'll stay here tonight. It's a good enough spot,” Brent said. He motioned for Keith to lead the way.

  Parting the brush aside, Keith crouched nearly on his hands and knees and snaked through the area until he could see the highway on the other side of a long gulley. The grass was long and they had plenty of cover.

  “This is good,” Brent said.

  The others spread out and found a space to either sit or lie down.

  Keith rested on the ground between Brent and Stacy. “How would this work?”

  “What?” Brent said.

  “How do I lead you back inside and then warn the Newcity police about Bradley?”

  Brent smiled. “Thank you.” He turned to Will. “You're in,” he said. Then he swung back toward Keith and went into his rough plan, explaining Keith's part as guide, and how he would continue to Newcity Central where he could turn himself in. Brent also asked Keith to memorize Bradley's approximate location. “Sam had a map with him,” Brent said before providing the rough directions.

  Keith memorized the information Brent told him and repeated it to be sure he had it right.

  “Good,” Brent said.

  “The only problem is that we won't be able to get back in the way I exited,” Keith said. “The maintenance will have been performed already. There'll be another route, but I won't know it.”

  “You'll be guided,” Stacy said.

  Keith wanted to believe her. “We'll see,” he said. “I'm still not convinced that I escaped merely to lead you back in.”

  “Why else would you come out alone?” she said.

  “Maybe I was the last.” Keith said. “After all, the boy is still with me.”

  “Don't say that. We waited for you to come. The boy is still here so that you can get back in.” Stacy appeared frazzled as she rejected his theory. “Enough of this. Let's get some sleep. We'll need to be fresh in the morning.”

  As they settled for the night, Keith heard scraping and movement around them, the rustling of garbage, chewing. He suspected rats, but the glow from the lights didn't illuminate the area well enough for him to know for sure. As long as the sounds stayed away, he'd be fine, but he didn't have to be concerned about that. The last to lie down, Keith noticed how they had placed him in the center of the group, which would make it difficult for him to escape even if he wanted to. And it would be equally difficult for rats to get near him. At least he'd sleep in peace.

  He lay on his back and stared through the brush into the night sky. A hazy light indicated the position of the moon behind the clouds. He longed to see sunrise over the hills back in Bradley's camp. The memory filled him with inspiration and a sense that everything was natural and good. Why didn't the others feel the same way? The chilled air caused his skin to pucker into bumps, so he placed his arms over his chest to keep warm. His senses had been turned on. His emotions varied widely, even as he thought about his experiences. A tear came to his eye. He was about to give up what he had recently acquired. His compassion was stronger than his self-preservation, it seemed.

  As Keith closed his eyes and accepted the night, he heard the voice of his father speaking. “You have always been different than the other kids,” he said. “Your sense of duty is strong, but there are times when you must make your own decisions.”

  And then another voice said, “You cannot save others, only help them to save themselves.”

  Keith's eyes opened and he sat up. He recognized the voice of Sam. He strained to look into the underbrush. Was that Sam's image beyond some of the brush, gauzy and faint, flowing with the rhythm of the breeze?

  As his heart got loud inside him, Keith glimpsed an image that looked like his father too. As he tried to bring the images into view, the images shivered and faded, then disappeared. In a moment both men were gone and Keith rested on his elbows confused and worried that he might be breaking down completely. He tried to think about what they had said, but like much of his life the past few days, the words revolved around each other. How could he make his own decisions, and at the same time help the others to save themselves? Words were much less useful than motion. At least the boy with the bullet hole in his forehead led Keith somewhere. He could follow the boy. The words only went in circles.

  A part of him wanted to ask the images questions, sit down and have a long talk where this could all be explained clearly and succinctly. Then he could really make his own decision.

  He lay back down and closed his eyes again. Only in half sleep did he see the apparitions of the dead. Perhaps that was where they lived. He willed their return, but when he awoke again, it wasn't to either of their voices, but to the sound of snoring coming from several of the others.

  Still dark, Keith thought back and saw that the only pa
rt of his life that had mattered was the last few days. All the rest of it seemed empty, the same. He could only recall one thing of importance from his time living in Newcity. Nellie. Her aggression no longer felt angry to him. Another feeling attached to her behavior that he couldn't name. He closed his eyes again and woke with the morning light.

  Chapter 18

  DAY 6

  The thirteen people shared what food they had with them that morning. Harold helped by walking to the gas station and buying some bread and butter to help fill their stomachs. The smell from the exhaust behind the restaurant was that of bacon, which had a few of them complaining about being outside of Newcity rather than inside where food was plentiful.

  “You see,” Stacy said to Keith, “out here we are denied food as often as we get it. How could we survive out here?” She was walking past him to join Brent. They all stood near the brush behind the station. The noise from the highway hummed in their ears.

  “It's just a feeling you've never had,” Keith said. “Maybe you learn how to acquire food, how to know your own body. If I focus on other things, the hunger goes away. The odor is just another smell, nothing more.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, but he knew the look and it didn't scare him like it did the others. When he didn't react, she said, “I'm sorry. You can have your own opinions as long as you get us back inside.”

  “What if I'm unsuccessful? If they don't believe me?” Keith said.

  “You are the boy with the bullet hole in his forehead. They'll believe you.”

  Harold interrupted their talk by barging in between them. “I don't care who saw what when you got out of there. It's time we found our way in.”

  “Right,” Robert said. “Let's go.” He walked toward Newcity and the others followed.

  Brent grabbed Keith's arm so that he was in the middle of the group. As they approached Newcity, Keith took the lead. He knew that they needed to get in through the docks, even though Brent and Stacy thought otherwise. He knew that was the right entry point ever since the night before, and his determination wouldn't allow him to alter his plan.

  It was early and already trucks lined the warehouse portion of Newcity where all the receiving took place.

  The group broke into several smaller bands. Brent, Stacy, Molly, and Keith traveled ahead. Next came the woman and her brother, her two children, and Harold. Robert and Amanda, and Will and Rebecca brought up the rear.

  “I should go with you,” Will said to Keith. He put his hand on the butt of the pistol. “In case you have trouble.”

  Uncomfortable with Will's willingness to kill again, Keith did no more than shake his head. “That's why you're taking up the rear. To protect the others.” Before they went any farther, Keith glanced around as though they might be watched. “We need to meet where the flowers come into the building. The place where people select those flowers should be easy to find. That's where we're headed. Don't ask why. Just meet at that place.

  Keith didn't wait for them to comment. He jogged from behind one of the trucks to the next truck. Crates of food were being unloaded. As they made their way across the area, he scanned the workers, hoping to locate Nellie. He was surprised at how few guards there were. Yet, none of the workers even attempted to escape. Eventually, he brushed his shirt and pants and straightened up, ready to walk out into the open.

  “What do you think you're doing?” Brent said, grabbing Keith's arm again.

  “I know someone who works here. She can help.”

  “Help, how?”

  “I told you last night that I'd get you inside,” Keith said. He looked at Brent's hand still holding his arm.

  Brent let go. “We'll be watching.”

  Keith strolled out from behind the truck. There were about thirty people working on that portion of the dock. They were all focused on the task at hand, unloading the trucks. Each crate was made of thick cardboard, the tops open. They carried box after box of flowers. Keith knew that Nellie would be in this section, making the selection of the freshest flowers for each of the stores in her area of Newcity.

  At the far end of the dock lay a set of stairs. A portable table and a few chairs had been set up for the truck drivers, but many of them stood in a group much farther from the dock. Only a few of the men and women sat at the table. “Sit down,” one of them invited as Keith approached.

  “Not today,” he said.

  The man shrugged then perked up and looked beyond Keith.

  Keith turned to see what alerted him. The other three had come around the truck and were hot on his tail.

  “You guys are all dressed alike. Where you from?” one of the drivers said.

  “Inspectors,” Brent said, taking Keith's lead from the night before.

  The driver scrunched up his face. “Inspecting what? Don't they have their own?”

  “Trainees,” Brent said.

  The man shook his head and turned back to the others while Brent, Stacy, and Molly followed Keith up the stairs.

  “This is too easy,” Brent said, close to Keith's ear.

  “Not for long,” Keith motioned toward several Newcity police heading across the warehouse floor. In a panic, he turned to Brent and whispered, “Run and hide,” then darted away from the approaching police and shot down an aisle.

  Keith didn't watch to see where the others ran off to; instead he slowed to a walk once the police couldn't see him. The rushing footsteps weren't coming in his direction. He heard a calm assertion for someone to stop, but continued to hear running. He assumed that the others had kept going and avoided the police for the moment. The workers in the area where he found himself all but ignored him. One or two nodded, but the others were either operating machines used to stack the crates or carting the crates by hand.

  He turned down an aisle and smelled the air. He followed the fragrance of the flowers, knowing that he'd eventually find the space where Nellie would be working. As one of the workers passed with several crates of flowers on a dolly, Keith turned to the man and said, “I'll take that from here. There's been a change.”

  The man handed the dolly over without saying a word. His facial expression dulled the air around him with passivity and a lack of personality. He calmly turned to go back to the dock empty handed.

  Keith pushed the dolly up one aisle and over to the next until he saw an open area where flowers were displayed on a long table. Three young girls appeared to be considering which to purchase. One of the girls was Nellie.

  Keith pushed the dolly toward the table.

  Nellie saw him approaching and her eyes widened. Her hands moved more quickly over the flowers and she put a label on one of the boxes before moving on to the next.

  Keith pushed the dolly to the end of the tables and stood it up. He walked toward Nellie and she swung toward him as he approached.

  “Oh, good,” she said with a nervous voice. “I need to talk with you.” She took his hand gently in hers and led him away from the table. One of the other girls glanced her way, but went back to work in a moment. “How were you able to get up here?”

  “We walked as though we belonged here. The police did chase the others, though,” Keith said. “I don't think for long.”

  “It'll be difficult to leave now, that's why. The cameras are mounted facing in, to keep us from getting too close to the outside. We seldom have someone coming in on purpose. Everyone uses the administration entrance. If they only knew,” she shook her head with curiosity. “‘Others,’” she said as though his words finally sunk in. “I thought you came to get us.”

  “Not exactly,” Keith said.

  She stopped and turned into him. Tears had already built around her eyes. “Why not?”

  “There are others who want back in,” he said.

  She looked confused by his statement.

  “I don't know why, either. It's not meant for everyone out there.” He jerked his head to indicate the outside world. “I promised that I'd help them get back inside without being chip
ped. Then I need to warn the Center of the possibility of an attack.” He swallowed and lifted his jaw slightly to maintain his composure. “They'll probably chip me again.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them after releasing a long, slow breath. “The chips are breaking down,” she said. “There have been more disturbances since you've gone. More violent ones. I've heard that the chemists are working on a stronger chip model, but their experiments aren't working out.” She raised her eyes to meet his. “They've rechipped you before. It didn't work. What if they don't try this time? What if they experiment with you because of your apparent resistance? You'll die in there.” She reached to touch his face with her hand, then lowered it and looked around.