(Un)wise
: Chapter 2

I woke feeling rested, but cranky. I wanted just one night without dreams, not that I wasn’t grateful for that last dream. At least no one had died. Struggling out of the bowl my body had created in the mattress, I checked the clock and flew into panic mode. Fourteen hours had passed! Too much time in one spot.

Scrambling to the window, I peeked around the curtain. The sun barely rimmed the horizon. Silence still claimed the morning—but not my thundering heart. My eyes darted around the street, searching for anything out of place. Nothing. I moved away from the window and slid my feet into my shoes.

Grabbing my bag, I eased out the door. The motel office waited a few feet away. Down the road, several trucks stood in front of the restaurant.

I hurried to return the room key. I needed a ride. I needed to move. The man from the night before took the key from me and returned the small cash deposit he’d required since I didn’t have a credit card. With a fake smile, I stepped back outside. The bus would bring me back to where I’d started, and I couldn’t go back home. I paused looking for options on the very dead street.

An early riser stepped out of the CCC. A dirty green knit cap covered his head and a brown scarf insulated his neck. Grey whiskers protected his cheeks. This far south winter rarely had a bite, but today would be one of those days.

He strode to a late model Chevy truck. Rust and mud speckled the back fender, but I didn’t care about that. He was just the option I was looking for. Waving to catch his attention, I hurried over to ask if he’d give me a ride out of town. He looked me over, eyeing my thin long sleeved shirt and asked me a few questions about where I was headed. Satisfied with my answer, a better paying job in a bigger town, he agreed to give me a lift.

“In the bed, ‘course. Can’t be too careful. Sorry,” he said, getting into the truck cab.

I didn’t mind the conditions. A ride was a ride, and I needed it desperately.

Using the bumper, I vaulted into the bed and hunkered down near the cab. As I’d expected, the cold pierced my skin as soon as we started moving. At least, the cold would help keep me awake.

I dug in my bag looking for something warmer. My hand brushed against a zipper. Carefully, I pulled a hooded sweatshirt out of the grey duffle. I frowned at it, puzzled. It didn’t look familiar. I turned it in my hands for a moment before deciding I didn’t care. Nothing seemed familiar anymore. I pulled it on and zipped it up. It smelled good, clean, unlike most of what I’d crammed into the bag, and it helped a bit against the wind.

The panic and need to move calmed as the driver kept a steady speed heading northwest out of town. It gave me time to think. Fourteen hours was crazy long for only one death dream. Since they had started, they had varied little. Discovery, then death. Like an alarm clock, they woke me to the truth: the beasts were coming, and I needed to run to save those I loved. Unfortunately, like those past lives, I hadn’t truly believed the dreams until one of those things actually arrived.

I rubbed my nose trying to warm it. At least I’d gotten away…this time.

The second dream about the women puzzled me. It was nothing like the other dreams. What did it mean, and why did I dream it right after that man found me? With a sigh, I leaned my head back and stared at the sky unable to answer my own questions.

I wasn’t sure if it was pity or his true destination, but the man drove an hour to the next big town with a bus stop. Discreetly digging in my stash of cash, I offered him a twenty for gas, but he waved it away with a gruff, “Take care.”

Looking at the schedule, I studied my options. There were several buses departing within the next hour. Only two general directions, however. North and west. Though I’d tolerated the cold, I didn’t want to push any further north in November without a decent jacket. West seemed like a good enough choice.

The dark circles under my eyes, a constant presence for the last few weeks, stood out vibrantly as I stepped off a bus in Springfield, Illinois twenty-four hours later. Wearily, I shuffled away from the drop-off location. The layovers and transfers had helped keep me awake and prevented a screaming fit while traveling, but I knew I needed to crash soon.

A fellow passenger pointed me in the direction of the nearest motel. Just a few blocks. No problem. Money would be an issue, though. This would be the last room I could afford. I wasn’t even sure if the fake ID I’d gotten online would work here. Most kids my age got one for drinking. Not me. As soon as I’d started dying in my dreams, I’d planned to run on some level and bought one just for this purpose. Running and hiding. If only I had a destination in mind. But, how could I when I didn’t even know where these things came from? For all I knew, I was heading right to them. Hard to plan when you didn’t know which direction was safe. Well, I knew home wasn’t safe. One found me there. I thought briefly of my mom and felt a pang. Please let this keep her safe.

Checking into the cheapest room I could manage, I headed to my room. I wanted sleep. Bad. My stomach cramped. I wanted food, too. However, both food and sleep would need to wait because I just couldn’t stand my own smell anymore. I walked to the bathroom as I peeled off my clothes. The money I had stuffed in my bra fell to the floor. The thin fold of bills worried me. I counted my remaining cash. Less than fifty. Enough to buy a few meals, but it wouldn’t get me much further, which meant I needed to earn some more. I set the money next to the sink with a sigh. I was tired, hungry, and poor. Could anything else knock me down?

I looked in the mirror, cringed, and added looking like crap to my list. A poster child for runaway teens stared back at me. I didn’t even look seventeen. Most of the makeup I’d worn to the mall had rubbed off. The dark circles, sallow complexion, and weight loss just made me look very young and very sick. Shaking my head at the thought, I picked a few items out of the duffle bag to wash. Since most of the clothes on the floor of my bedroom had been dirty, they needed it. The longer I’d traveled, the more strange looks I’d gotten on the bus. I didn’t need to call additional attention to myself by looking like a vagrant.

Back home it’d been part of my act to hide the fact I wasn’t sleeping. I didn’t need to hide that anymore. There wasn’t anyone around who’d care. Besides, staying awake seemed stupid now, anyway. I still didn’t want to see or feel myself dying in my dreams, but I didn’t like the idea of dying in real life because of tired mistakes, either. And if I kept avoiding sleep, that was going to happen.

The high-pressure showerhead made washing quick and easy for my underthings and shirt. The bar soap smelled okay, too. I rinsed until the water ran clear. The jeans were a pain. Waterlogged, they weighed too much to easily maneuver under the spray of water. Giving up, I stepped in and pulled the curtain closed. Standing under the steamy stream and alternating between rinsing the jeans and washing myself kept me awake until I finished.

Thankfully, towels were abundant in the bathroom. After drying off and wrapping my hair, I used another towel for my jeans. I rolled them inside the towel and stomped on the roll. The towel came away soaked. I grabbed a new towel and did it again. The second time the jeans no longer dripped water. I hung them on the rod and trudged to bed.

The pillows called to me. I tossed back the bedspread. Again, a dream wrapped around me as I climbed under the covers.

Glowing embers floated in the air, red stars against the night sky.

A dark haired girl stood before the blazing huts, facing the fire. The heat curled her hair and burned her skin, but she didn’t back away. She screamed a name, searching fruitlessly in the shifting orange flames.

Her desperation crowded into me. My heart stuttered as we merged, her every thought and feeling becoming my own.

Turning, I ran into the darkness only to return a second later with a crude clay container filled with water. I tossed the contents toward the flames, but it fell short. Frustration and terror tore at me. I raced away to try again, this time stepping closer. Water hit the burning grass walls but didn’t slow the consuming progress. With a hiss and sputter, the moisture evaporated.

Deep, mocking laughter echoed behind me.

“Child! You are not meant for this. Step away.”

I spun toward my tormentors. “Help me! If you care as you claimed when you set the fires, help me put them out.”

Auburn-hued from the reflection of the flames, a group of men stood watching. Several wore taunting grins.

The leader tilted his head as he studied me.

“Why? They are all dead,” he assured me. “There is not one heart left beating, save yours.”

A wall of guilt hit me. My family, gone. I screamed my anguish and fell to my knees. The soles of my feet, still so close to the flames, started to blister. My hair curled back from the heat and started to smoke. I fell silent and looked up with dull eyes.

I knew her choice as it settled in her mind. I fought her, wanting to wake up. Falling had been bad; this would be worse.

“You win. I will choose.” I stood, embracing the pain in my feet. It’s what my family had all felt while trying to protect me. Searing pain.

“You are indeed wise. Who will it be?” the leader asked. Several men stood back from the flames waiting eagerly for our choice.

“Not who. What.” I smiled as his triumphant grin fell. “Death.” I turned and ran into the flames.

At first, I felt nothing. Then the pain of every blister and crack as I turned into a human candle consumed me. I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out. There was only pain, everywhere.

I struggled to escape the pain. My heart thumped heavily as I shifted in my sleep, crying out. A hand soothed a tear from my cheek. Lips pressed against my forehead. A voice whispered, “I’m here.” I tried to open my eyes, tried to breathe air that wasn’t smoke-filled. My fight was in vain. I sank deeper as the dream shifted.

Hidden in the trees, a mother cradled her child in her arms. Sweat still shone on the woman’s skin from her recent labor. Birds sang, and sunlit spots danced on the forest floor.

Still matted and slick from birth, the child suddenly squalled loudly.

The mother smiled at her child. “I call you Jin, for Strength, as she promised us. I will keep you as safe as I am able and love you always. Protect us with your strength. Keep them at bay.”

She put the child to her breast and laid her head back against the trunk of the tree.

Before her, the taupe gowned woman appeared. “There can be no rest. You must run.”

The startled woman opened her eyes and looked down in concern at the infant. “She’s so fragile,” she murmured.

“If she dies, she will be reborn as often as necessary each cycle. She will know pain and hardship.” The gowned woman knelt to stroke the smooth cheek. She felt compassion and sorrow seeing the fates of the child. “Balance must be maintained. The world will burn if they replace her.”

I lingered on the edge of sleep for several minutes before opening my eyes. My stomach churned as I remembered the newest death. I curled into a ball under the covers.

Why wouldn’t the dreams just stop already? I’d run like the visions showed me. Maybe too late, though. The face of the man from the mall surfaced in my mind. His warm eyes looked gentle and amused, not malicious like the others. But I knew better than to trust them. I wrapped my arms around my knees. There was nothing gentle about the things chasing me. Every memory followed the same pattern. I ran from something that terrified me, the “something” exposed itself as a dog, turned man. The dogs—always a group of them—possessed large sleek heads, intelligent eyes, vicious teeth, and claws, which they put to use. After changing forms, they always talked about choosing. Choosing what? The way they acted and spoke, I guessed they wanted me to choose one of them. But to what purpose?

If I didn’t kill myself, they tried forcing me to choose. The methods they used…I shuddered. I wasn’t sure whose method was worse. Theirs or mine. In all my past lives I died horribly. I thought I understood the messages of the dreams—run. But if that was it, the dreams should have stopped. Instead, they’d changed. Two now had felt like a memory even though I hadn’t merged with anyone. The two about babies.

Last night’s second dream made my need to run sound like there was more at stake than just my death. Not that my death wasn’t important enough to keep my feet moving. That woman made it sound like I didn’t really have a choice.

If I hadn’t connected with any of the women, why would it feel like a memory? My brows rose as I realized whom I’d overlooked. The infants in the first unique dream. Of course. Six of them just like the six variations of past lives I kept dreaming about. In the first unique dream, they hadn’t been born; and in the second, the newborn hadn’t yet experienced her gift, the things chasing her, or much of anything, really. Perhaps that was why I hadn’t connected.

So, if those two dreams were still memories, then what that woman said scared me. Would the world truly burn if those dog-men caught me? I shuddered remembering the feeling of the flames consuming my flesh. Thankfully, the searing pain had been cut short.

I stopped that thought and with wide eyes froze under the covers. A gentle hand had soothed me. The kiss. Had it been real? I tried to breathe as quietly as possible as I listened for any strange noises in the room. All I could hear was my own heartbeat. Scrunching my eyes for a moment, I braced myself for the worst. I took a deep breath and quickly sat up, looking around the room.

Everything remained as it had when I’d gone to sleep. The outside door remained securely bolted, and the bathroom door still stood open. I let out a large shaky sigh.

That touch, like the dreams, had felt real yet it hadn’t been a part of either dream. Rather, it was a fragment of the shift between them. That was one of the difficulties with sleep deprivation. The confused haziness between reality and imagination was hard to figure out. Well, that plus the headaches…

Flopping backwards, I rubbed my hands over my face. Maybe my first inclination to question my sanity had been right. What if all of this was really in my head? I laughed at myself. Of course it was in my head. But what if it was all just my imagination? That guy in the mall might have really just wanted the bathroom. And my physical reaction to him? Well, he was really good looking, and he had an accent. Who wouldn’t suffer a little tummy tickle over that?

What did I really have as solid proof that something was out there? I cringed. I didn’t have any. That just furthered my insanity theory. My poor Mom. And school. Exams were in a few weeks. I’d skipped so much school my grades were in the gutter. I had enough credits to graduate at the end of the semester if I passed my current class load. If I went back now and asked for help, I could still do it. Maybe. I’d probably still end up in a padded room for a while. But, the details of the dreams, and my ability to recall everything—touch, taste, smell—bothered me. It seemed so real. What if all those feelings were memories? If I went back home, would I be setting myself up for another non-choice…where I sacrificed myself?

With a sigh, I flipped back the covers and got out of bed. No matter what I chose, I needed to get dressed first. Padding across the carpet, I stepped into the bathroom to check my clothes. Dry, but stiff.

Dressing slowly, I mulled over my options. Home called to me. I had very little money left and nowhere to go. But, I needed to be sure. I didn’t want to go back and bring trouble with me. This was a big enough town. I could replace a job and wait out a few weeks. See if the dreams got better.

Gripping my jeans to pull them up, I felt a crinkle in the front pocket. Odd. I hadn’t felt anything when I washed them. Something dug into my hip when I tugged them up the rest of the way.

I reached into the pocket, and my fingers brushed something. Hard plastic. I dug deeper. Paper. A chill swept through me as I wrapped my hand around the items and pulled them out. I stared at the five neatly folded hundred dollar bills, a note, and a cell phone lying in my open palm for a moment before I instinctively dropped them on the tan bathroom tile. Nothing was mine.

The hand wiping the tear from my face…

Icy fear pierced my stomach, and I sat heavily on the toilet seat. With shaking fingers, I tentatively picked up the note. Each crackle as I unfolded the hotel stationery sent a shiver down my spine. The paper had nothing on it but a phone number. No. No way! How had he found me again? Could it be the same guy? I crumpled the paper and threw it in the garbage along with the phone.

The dreams. People chasing me. It wasn’t in my head. I stared at the solid proof that it was real. I couldn’t go back home. I needed to keep running. Move. I eyed the money. I wasn’t about to use the phone to call that number, but the money…I’ll be taking that, thank-you-very-much!

Wasting no time, I gathered my things. At least, I’d showered and slept. Looking around to make sure I wasn’t forgetting anything, I spotted stationery on the bedside table. The pen lay beside it. Lifting the pad to the light, I saw the indentations of the phone number that had been in my pocket. Of course, I already knew someone had been in my room but seeing the used pad of paper gave me the shakes again.

Run!

I didn’t look back.