Watchers of the Night

by Matthew Keith

  * * *

  Opening his eyes to the dream, Paul got up and went outside. He stood on his front step, trying to decide which way would be his best option. He didn’t relish the thought of another long walk to the cemetery, but he needed to find Lisa. ‘Sweet Dreams’ as a message didn’t really imply anything, except maybe to be her way of telling him she was looking forward to seeing him.

  Mentally shrugging, he headed toward his bench. He had to pass it on the way to the cemetery anyway. He would go there first, and then decide whether he wanted to continue on.

  Coming around the last corner, he wasn’t disappointed by his choice. Lisa sat there, idly swinging her feet and looking up into the night sky, a picture of carefree leisure. Looking over as he approached, she bathed him in her trademark smile and hopped to her feet. She came to greet him, taking both his hands in hers, and leaned up to give him a light kiss on the cheek, murmuring “thank you” as she did.

  Taken aback, Paul asked, “For what?”

  “For not coming to me today and bombarding me with a million questions. Most people do. They either don’t believe what they’ve been told is true and think it was all just a dream, or they believe it so strongly that they can’t wait to have all their questions answered. It’s a real sign of strength that you dealt with your first day alone and didn’t come to me.”

  “Umm, well, I’m glad to have been able to give you some space.”

  “You sound like we’re dating or something, Paul,” she said coyly, giving him wide-eyed, penetrating look. “It’s not that I needed any space. It’s like I told you last night; no one will ever believe this. We’d be locked away like nut-bags if anyone ever heard us talking about it, and in the off-chance that the wrong people heard us and actually believed us, we could find ourselves in some very bad situations.”

  “What?” Paul asked. “Why would we end up in bad situations? What do you mean?”

  “There are people all over the world that can do this. I told you that. Not a lot, but there are more—enough that, to you and I, it would seem like a lot. It isn’t inconceivable that there could be Walkers like us in, say, Al-Qaeda. Imagine if we were found by a group like that. We would be tortured during the day so that they could use us at night.

  “We’re helpless while we sleep, Paul. With all the wonderful things we can do at night, that’s also when we’re at our weakest, physically. If anyone had a serious grudge against us, all they would have to do is figure out where we lay our heads.”

  This was a new dimension to his ability that took the romance out of it completely. She was right—he had to be more careful. He’d almost told Stephanie today simply out of guilt. Not only would he be putting himself at risk, but he would also be putting anyone he told at risk. Anyone who knew that people like him existed could become a target for the wrong people.

  “During the day we can only talk about this in safe places,” she continued, “and there are very few of those. You might think you’re safe in your house, but that’s not true. You never know when your parents might come home, right? You can’t talk about it on the phone because everything can be traced and listened to now, thanks to the Patriot Act. And obviously a rumor-mill like high school is out of the question.”

  “That’s why you slipped me the note and sent a text with such cryptic wording,” Paul thought out loud, nodding as he spoke. “You were protecting us both. But if all those places aren’t safe, then where is safe? If I can’t talk about it at home… where? And what did you call us? Walkers?”

  “Here. In the dream. That’s where you’re safe. And one other place, for sure. Astralis.”

  “Astral…” Paul began, but then it all came together. “Who are you, Lisa?”

  Lisa laughed, sounding just as delighted with his confusion as she had the night before. In a mocking tone, she raised one hand and said, “Hi, my name is Lisa and I’m a Walker.”

  Paul gave her a level look, indicating that he wasn’t amused.

  “Okay,” she grew serious once again, sitting back down on his bench. “We are called Night Walkers by many of our own kind. It’s a term based on an old Navajo superstition regarding tribe members who broke certain cultural taboos in order to gain the ability to travel at night in different forms. The Navajos called them skin walkers. Somehow we ended up adopting the term for ourselves, but changed it to Night Walkers.” She shrugged. “It’s a loose term, and doesn’t mean much except that it’s a self-attached label. I guess someone figured it sounded cool.

  “So, because we’re Night Walkers, a lot of us call the dream the Walking World, and call daytime the Waking World. As you already know, they’re the same place and aren’t really two different worlds. But to us, they definitely feel like it.

  “As for me – I’m Lisa Dittrich.”

  Paul gave a start, recognizing the name immediately.

  “I knew about you before I came to your school,” she explained. “Or at least, I was pretty sure you were a Walker based on everything they told me.”

  “They? What do you mean, you knew?”

  “You met my dad, Paul. You know he works for Astralis. What you don’t know is that he’s a Walker too, and even though Astralis is supposed to exist for people who can’t sleep, their main, true, and most important work is based around people like us.

  “Astralis sends out Walker scouts constantly, all over the country, looking for others in the hopes of reaching out and offering help. One of those scouts saw you on this bench about six months ago. They watched people come and go, but you just stayed right here. Never once did you acknowledge them and they didn’t acknowledge you. It was a dead give-away. So for the next five months you were observed. When it was clear you didn’t know about your gift, that’s when they sent me to watch you with your friends, get a bead on what kind of life you live, that kind of thing.”

  “You spied on me?” Paul blurted. “I thought you liked me!”

  “Paul, I do like you.” Lisa put her hands in her lap and looked down. “More than I should, probably. For crying out loud, I’m telling you all of this on our second night. I’m not supposed to tell new Walkers who I am for weeks. Paul, you’re special. You’re more special than just another Walker, which is a whole other conversation. You’ve got potential to be greater. Much greater.”

  “What are you talking about? Isn’t being able to walk around invisible at night enough?”

  “I can’t tell you everything, it’s not my place. At Astralis I’m pretty low in the ranks, a relatively new Walker with a very small job compared to the rest of what they do. Anything more has to come directly from Dr. Abrams, or at least be approved by him. But please trust me, Paul—he can help you.”

  “He can help me how?” Paul retorted. “I already feel better just knowing I’m not imagining all of this. What could he possibly do for me past showing me the truth, which you’ve already done? I’m fine. Even your father said that they have never been able to find a cure for what we can do. Honestly, Lisa, I don’t know why anyone would want to be ‘cured,’ anyway. Knowing what I know now, this seems like the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  Lisa pursed her lips. “Like I said, I can’t tell you everything. I’m not allowed to. But you need to listen to me and you need to listen close. The fact that Astralis is dedicated to finding and helping Walkers should be enough all in its own for you to want to be a part of what they do.

  “Think back to just a few days ago, to the state of mind you were in. That’s where most Walkers are their entire life; never knowing what they can do. They think the Walking World is just a dream, a product of their subconscious, just like you did. Most of them try to figure out what’s wrong by going to doctors, just like you did, and they get answers from those doctors, but those answers are only guesses. Unless a Walker is lucky enough to wander into the office of a doctor that Astralis has already had contact with, which basically never happens, they spend their entire lives on medication. And that only makes them f
eel worse because, without fail, the doctor diagnoses them with some sort of depression or Daddy issue. The Walkers end up isolated and lonely, separated and alone with no chance for a real life.”

  Paul said nothing, caught up in the memory of how he’d felt the past five years, knowing that what Lisa said was right on target.

  “Now take it a step further,” she continued. “Let’s talk about the Walkers that come to Astralis but decide they can handle the responsibility that comes with their gift, and leave to make it on their own. Some, who prefer the isolationism that comes with our gift, become a little obsessed. They stay within particular areas and become territorial, almost like drug dealers, watching for other Walkers and warning them to keep away under penalty of death. And they do enforce it, because they never want anyone to learn their secret. Those Walkers are all just this side of crazy. Most of them end up in jail because they can’t hold steady jobs. The only way they can make enough money is to use their gift to find opportunities to steal what they need.”

  Paul tried to interject, but Lisa wasn’t done.

  “And then there are the Crazies,” Lisa said. “They’re the ones that go insane from the lack of mental down-time. Our bodies sleep every night, so physically we get the rest we need. But our minds never cease to process, no matter if we’re awake or in the dream. Some people just can’t handle never shutting down their brain every night.”

  Remembering how he’d been yelling into the face of a man who couldn’t see or hear him just a few nights ago, Paul knew it was very possible that one day he could end up being one of the crazies Lisa was describing.

  “Astralis has programs dedicated to helping Walkers who have trouble with mental overload, but it has to be at the facility in Virginia. Their treatments only happen there. Secrecy is a huge part of what keeps Astralis going. If word got out what their true function was… well, I already told you some of those dangers.

  “Paul,” she concluded. “There is too much you will leave to chance if you don’t take the help that is being offered.”

  He knew she was right. He couldn’t imagine spending the rest of his life knowing what he could do and never being able to share it with anyone else. He was certainly no stranger to being alone, the last five years had taught him how to cope with that, but did he really want to commit himself to it permanently?

  No, he did not.

  He sat with his elbows on his thighs and wrists touching, staring down at the pavement, thinking.

  “I’ll need to have a conversation with my mom, and with Stephanie and Steven,” Paul said finally. “They’ll want to know why I would make such a quick decision, and honestly I don’t know what to tell them because I’m not sure it’s the right one!”

  “I’ve been through this a few times now,” Lisa offered, “and trust me when I tell you that you just have to make the decision yourself. There is nothing you can tell them that will make sense, except that you want to go and try a new treatment. You may hurt their feelings a little when you say you’re leaving, but the alternative is to try to explain something they wouldn’t understand or believe—and might put them in danger if they knew about it.”

  “Lisa, I can’t just leave. That will cause more problems than telling them the truth.”

  “Paul,” Lisa took his hand in hers and leaning in very close. “Trust me.”

  Looking into those brown eyes, he wanted to. Lord, how he wanted to.