by Sarah Noffke
A subtle smile turned the corners of Connor’s lips up. Even unshaved, Adelaide noticed he had a decent face. The gauge in his right earlobe was a bit of a distraction, but she managed to pull her gaze back to his eyes.
“Where am—”
“You’re at the Lucidite Institute. It’s a place where a society of Dream Travelers live and work. We protect the world from itself using reports of the future from clairvoyants. Dream Travelers are the new race you belong to. You can bet that you have a psychic ability now too, which goes along with the race’s power. When you dream, your consciousness has the choice to go to any place and time using the fabric of the universe. You have also been altered with wolf genes by an organization that we know nothing about. We will protect, feed, and manage you from this point forward. This is for your benefit as well as to keep you out of society at large where you will no doubt be a danger to civilians. I’m your dog trainer while at this cozy place we call the Institute. You should do everything I say and never question it because I know better than you,” Adelaide said in one long rushed series of sentences.
Connor nodded, seeming to integrate all of this information without too much effort. Or maybe he was still in a daze from the trauma.
“You are not to contact people from your past life. Go home. Access old accounts. Connor Luce is dead as far as the world is concerned,” she said.
“That’s not a problem,” he said, his eyes distant. Then he brought them up to meet hers again. “One thing you forgot to mention, though.”
“I never forget a thing,” she said, rolling her eyes which she did too often by most people’s dumb standards.
“What’s your name?”
Adelaide paused. Tilted her chin to the side. Connor wasn’t acting like most, seemingly unsatisfied by her brazen nature and brevity. He actually looked too accepting of the rough orientation she’d given him. “You can call me Adelaide,” she said.
“Because that’s your name?” Connor said.
She shook her head and eyed the tray of half-eaten food. “Did you get enough dog food, because I really need your full attention to answer some questions.”
He pushed the tray away to the side of the bed. “Fire away,” Connor said.
“Well, I’m positive that you won’t be of much help, based on interrogating your alpha wolf. However, anything you can tell me about the people who abducted you will be helpful,” Adelaide said, and it was true. Zephyr hadn’t been able to supply much information about the scientists. It appeared that they kept the men drugged pretty heavily so his memories were somewhat fuzzy.
“Alpha, as in a hierarchy in a wolf pack?” Connor said, almost laughing. “You’ve got to be kidding, right?”
“I never kid,” Adelaide said dryly.
“And who is this supposed alpha wolf?” Connor asked.
“His cell was directly across from yours. You’ll meet him soon. I think he’s licking his emotional wounds right now,” she said.
“The guy with the black and silver hair,” Connor said.
Adelaide paused and regarded him with an edge of disbelief. Zephyr hadn’t been able to identify many of the men or scientists from the labs due to the drugs. She wondered how Connor would have this specific memory.
“Did they keep you drugged with sedatives while in the labs?” she asked.
“Yeah, they tried but I don’t think they realized I have an incredible tolerance,” he said, scratching his scruffy jaw. She noticed the tattoo on his neck, just below his right ear, although she couldn’t make out what it was.
“Do you remember anything about being abducted?” she said.
“That memory is actually not real vivid. It was night. I remember walking down an alley and then the next thing I knew I’d passed out and woke up in the cell in the lab,” he said.
“You’re lying,” Adelaide said.
He flinched from the acute observation. Connor had in fact been lying, but he had no idea how she’d know that. “It doesn’t matter. The point is that I was abducted.”
“You realize I can’t help you unless you fully disclose everything to me,” she said, and she knew the truth, but wanted Connor to say it. Adelaide wanted him to know he couldn’t get away with anything when it came to her.
“Fine. I was asleep in the alley. I was homeless and sleeping beside a dumpster,” he said, trying to fake indifference about how much a loser he’d been… was.
“While you were imprisoned, both before and after the breakout, did you see anything of usefulness?” Adelaide said.
“No, but I heard something. When the scientist and the guy in the silver suit returned after the breakout, I heard them talking,” Connor said.
“They didn’t spot you then, I’m guessing,” she said.
“I hid at the ceiling of my cell,” he said, like hanging out on a ceiling wasn’t extraordinary.
“And?” she said, acting impatient.
“The man in the silver suit, the one who I got the impression was in charge, said, ‘Now Olento Research has to go catch some loose dogs,’” he said.
“Olento Research…” Adelaide said, realizing that they were finally making progress with identifying the mastermind behind all this. And it was thanks to the guy sitting in the bed before her.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Metaphysical thinking has zero use at Olento Research Corp. We deal in facts. Science.”
- Olento Research Employee Manual
Zephyr’s gray eyes roamed over the brushed stainless steel walls of the corridor. He’d been exploring the various floors of the Lucidite Institute and it surprised him how all the levels looked the same. There were five and they consisted primarily of hallways with motorized doors, most of which didn’t slide back when he clicked the button beside them. That’s when he learned that buttons lit red meant the door was locked. Buttons that glowed blue opened easily. There was a main hall where the residents of this strange cult place took their daily meals. Adelaide had mentioned the other department rooms and the infirmary. That’s where she was now apparently. She’d said she was going to question the guy they brought in, the one Zephyr had left behind.
Guilt made him lose his breath, then he drew in air only to choke on it. He couldn’t believe he’d run, not checking all the cells. Over and over he told himself there hadn’t been time, but he couldn’t remember if that was true. There had been blood, mouthfuls of warm flesh, and then he’d been summoned to run. This was the beast’s fault. He could never think when the werewolf took over. But the captain in him knew that leaving a man behind was the worst thing he could have possibly done. The wolf was his downfall in every way. It made him murder, made him unreliable. He wasn’t sure which was worse. As a captain in the Special Forces he’d been in positions where he had to defend himself, to kill another human being. It was part of the job. But abandoning a member of his team, that wasn’t something he’d ever had to absolve himself for.
Pausing at a door, Zephyr read the placard next to it. It said:
“Shhh…”
He’d noticed many of the supposed department rooms were strange like this, with odd names. The strategic department was named Scapes Escapes. There was another room where glassy-eyed people often filed into that was named the Panther Room. More and more he wanted to unlock the secrets inside the Institute. He’d been mutated into a werewolf, but the strangest part of his life was that he was of a new race called Dream Travelers and residing in a strange underwater society of these people. His thumb rested on the blue button for the Shhh room, about to press down.
“Stop what you’re doing,” he heard someone say behind him. Zephyr’s sense of hearing told him that the voice belonged to Adelaide. But also, he could smell her. If he was in werewolf form then he would have been alerted to her presence sooner, but as a human his senses were sharp only when he employed them using intention. Zephyr turned.
“Is this room off limits?” he said, as she approached, her short legs hurrying to catch up
with him.
“No, but the fewer people who know about it, the better. It’s my sanctuary and I don’t like sharing it with others,” she said.
He arched a curious eyebrow at her, placing his finger back on the button, tempting her.
“Don’t. It’s just a dumb, run-down library. You wouldn’t like it. I’m sure you can’t even read,” Adelaide said.
And at this he tapped the button to reveal a cavernous space which was a stark contrast to the modern science fiction feel of most of the Institute. From the door he spied the black-and-white marble floor that led into a what looked like a gigantic library, a huge wooden staircase sitting in the middle of the space. Immediately the multilevel library drew him in. He leaned forward just as the door shut in front of his face.
“Don’t make me put a leash on you,” Adelaide said, pulling her hand from the button. “I’ll show you where the gym is. That’s where you can hang out, since you’ll be out of my way in there.”
“Oh, you don’t work out? Shocking,” he said, running his eyes over her thin, pale arms.
“Come on, dog boy, I’ll show you to your room. The rooming corridor is on the second level,” she said.
“What’s down there?” he said, pointing at the hallway that seemed to lead on forever. This place was massive.
“Not your room,” she said, her voice articulating each of the words. “However, Aiden’s lab is down there and that’s where you will go when he needs to give you your veterinarian exam.”
He turned and followed along beside her. “When are you going to teach me how to use that GAD-C so that I can travel easier? If I’m going to assist you with finding the other men then I’ll need to travel as fast as you do.”
She pursed her lips and regarded him for a moment. “Good point. However, you need to hone your dream travel skills first. That’s what you’ll be assigned to do tonight.” Adelaide paused and withdrew a piece of paper from her jeans pocket and handed it to Zephyr. “There’s a list of over a hundred places here. When you lie down tonight instruct your consciousness to take you to each of these places. Once you’ve visited all of these in one night then you’ll be ready for the next step in learning dream travel.”
“‘The Temple of the Sun Room in Machu Picchu at sunset of present day’?” he read from the top of the list, his voice coated in disbelief. The whole list read like that. Specific places and times of day. “Can’t you be more general, like just Machu Picchu, or even something a bit less foreign? How about just Phoenix, Arizona?”
“How about you quit being a loser,” she said. “Dream travel is about specifics. If you use intention then you don’t have to know coordinates on a map. The fabric of the universe knows for you and you simply access ley lines. But it does take practice and a whole lot of faith.”
“I thought dream traveling was more of a science,” he said.
“And even with science there is faith. Dumb scientists just deny this,” she said, punching the button for the elevator.
Still eyeing the list, Zephyr said, “And I can time travel back to sunset?”
“Yes, but never go more than a few years into the past, especially before you’re better at dream traveling. And never go into the future. You can apparently really bodge up your brain and we both know you need to hold on to all the precious brain cells you have left,” Adelaide said, hitting the button for level two once they were in the elevator.
Zephyr’s eyes fell to the book in Adelaide’s hand. It was the same one she had with her in the meeting earlier. “What book is that?”
“Speaking of books, in your room I left the Dream Traveler Codex. Sorry it doesn’t come on audio so you’re going to have to sound out all the big words. However, it does have the rules, protocols, history of Dream Travelers, et cetera. So read it to save me from having to teach you this stuff,” she said, exiting first when the elevator shot up to the second level.
“Is there a reason that you treat me with such disdain?” Zephyr said. The three men he’d met, Trent, Trey, and Aiden, had been genuinely nice. Rox was sassy and maybe too nice at times with her flirtatious looks. But Adelaide had a rudeness that was unique to her. He’d never met anyone who so flippantly ridiculed others.
“Like do you mean, do I loathe you more than the other gits on this earth? No, I loathe you just as much, maybe a little less based on your shitty situation,” she said, halting in front of a door and pressing the button. “Here’s your dog house.”
The door slid back to reveal a space that resembled a hotel room. The stainless steel walls and blue carpet in the corridor had trickled over into the rooms. A bed, dresser, side tables, and desk all sat neatly arranged. Zephyr shrugged at the space. It wasn’t great, but it beat where he was living. Actually everything about the Institute beat the life he had and even the one he had before that. He’d been lost in the Special Forces. That’s why he’d been discharged. But afterwards he was still lost, like a dog who’d run away from home but couldn’t quite remember who he’d lived with or what his home looked like. But now, he was too overwhelmed to experience that lost feeling.
And there was something strangely comforting about the Institute, something he couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was just that he’d sunk so low that the strange place full of secret people made him feel not so peculiar anymore. He didn’t feel like the outcast he should have felt like based on his werewolf status. And he didn’t feel different like he’d felt his whole life, because everyone at the Institute had a strange extraordinary quality about them.
“Will that codex tell me about my special powers or how to use or access them?” he said, pointing at a red book sitting on the desk, the one he’d guessed Adelaide had left for him.
“Why do you say ‘powers’? I thought you said you have x-ray vision. Are there other skills that you haven’t mentioned?” Adelaide said, crossing her arms, the thick book folding under her armpit.
Adelaide appeared so young to him, maybe twenty-one or twenty-two. And yet she had those old soul eyes. He despised that description though. It trivialized what he actually saw in a person. It wasn’t a soul thing, but rather a maturity thing. Not a spiritual aspect but rather a detail that spoke of the enormity that one had seen.
“The x-ray vision came on by accident. I was looking for something and then my eyesight just changed,” he said, avoiding divulging that he’d been searching for the right prescription drug to fix him.
“That’s usually how it happens. We are bodies full of desires and the psychic or super powers inside us are usually first experienced when we make an intention that the skill can fulfill, although without our express knowledge. You don’t want to know what I did with my skills before I knew I had them,” she said.
“What are your skills?”
“None of your business,” she said.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Here I thought you could share to help my orientation,” he said, walking over and picking up the book.
“I’m not here to help you. Well, only to the extent that you help me do my job. Your health, happiness, and assimilation into this world are really not my concern,” she said.
“That seems about right based on our previous conversations,” he said, thumbing through the book which held multiple drawings and charts. “But go ahead and indulge me this once. What’s your skill? I only know what Rox’s skill is and no other Dream Traveler’s.”
“Nope,” she said at once.
“I don’t even know examples of what other Dream Traveler skills would be, that’s all I’m saying. Like what’s the range? Maybe if you tell me what yours is then—”
“Stop asking about my skills,” Adelaide said, her words strong and like vivid pictures in Zephyr’s mind.
He opened his mouth to ask his question, but nothing came out. And then the desire to ask Adelaide about her skill flew away. It was the strangest experience, like the curiosity had been blotted out. He forgot entirely about the conversation and continued browsing the book.
&nbs
p; “So what other skill do you think you have?” Adelaide said.
He remembered the strange experiences when he dreamed—actually it had been while dream traveling, he now realized. Often while dream traveling, his raw emotions were punctuated by gale force winds. He remembered escaping from the wolf in his dream travels and then feeling his own hopelessness when alone in the location he’d intended to visit. The wind was always around him on those occasions, whipping at his face, like it meant to comfort him. And also, Zephyr recalled the strange dust storm that came out of nowhere. The one in Phoenix that blanketed his neighborhood and made it impossible to go to work. “Is it possible to control the wind?” he said.
“Anything in the Dream Traveler world is possible,” she said, eyeing him skeptically.
“It’s probably nothing—”
“Why don’t you make an intention to use this skill you deem as nothing, but seem to think was important enough to mention. Try and use it now, employing the same power you funnel for x-ray vision,” Adelaide said, sounding bored.
Her words strangely made sense. He knew what she meant by drawing on the power. Since he’d honed his skills he’d recognized where the power came from, about like when he was using combat skills. With a blunt force of intention he pictured wind in his mind, pretended to feel it. Then he held up his hand, instinct directing his movements. So much of his being was ruled by instinct now. And then his fingertips tingled and something invisible seemed to flow out of his hand. He didn’t see anything, but then Adelaide’s red hair moved a little and then more, until it blew back, like caught in a shallow breeze.
Looking unimpressed, Adelaide nodded slightly. “Well, I guess we’ll be calling you Windy from now on.”
Zephyr looked at her, exasperated, and then back at this hand. “How is it possible that my skill is synonymous with my name?”
“God thinks this kind of shit is cute,” Adelaide said with a shrug. “Oh, and we can also blame the law of attraction. That which is around us, we tend to attract, either consciously or unconsciously.”