This photograph of abandoned buildings in Wood Mountain, Saskatchewan is by Masterhatch and is used in accordance with his Creative Commons License.
In the previous chapter, we flashback to the time Aurora discovered her uncanny ability to see what others were dreaming. In the present day, we discover that Polk has inadvertently stowed away in Matron's car while Aurora makes her escape. After pulling themselves out of another dream that was blocking them from reality, they come to a small, almost abandoned hamlet in need of gas, supplies and a bathroom break. They're met by the mysterious owner of the general store, Salvadore, who quickly shows that he doesn't have their interests at heart. Aurora, drugged, blacks out, and Salvadore states that a very important person is coming to talk to her.
Now on with the story.
The Dream King's Daughter - Chapter Four: In a Nameless Town
Aurora walked home from school alone, hands in the pockets of her new denim jacket, eyes on the ground. She followed the sidewalks without looking at the traffic lights.
She jumped when an arm reached out, barring her way.
"Whoa, there," said a bespectacled crossing guard. "Where's your mind at today?"
"Sorry," Aurora mumbled.
"Not as sorry as you'd be if you just walked out into traffic," said the guard.
She looked up at him. His gaze met hers...
A small boy stands in the middle of the road, staring in terror at an oncoming dump truck.
"Never fear! I shall save you!" The crossing guard flies down from the rooftops, lands in front of the little boy, and raises his stop sign.
The truck driver applies the brakes. The horn blares. There is a squeal and the smell of burning rubber. The truck stops within inches of the two of them.
The little boy hugs the crossing guard's leg. "You saved me!"
The crossing guard beams at the little boy. "Not to worry, son. All in a day's work for--"
Aurora smiled despite herself. The guard faced the road and held up his stop sign. Traffic stopped, and he grandly ushered her forward like royalty. Aurora curtsied and crossed the street. As she passed the guard, she said, "Thanks... Crossing Guard Man."
He stared at her, eyes wide. She walked on without looking back.
All the way home, Aurora thought about her strange new power. As she closed the front door and pulled off her coat, she wondered how, or if, she could tell her mom about it. Her mother hadn't included it in their 'facts of life' discussion (which Aurora remembered in all of its excruciating, red-faced detail). She'd been smart enough not to tell any of the other kids. They just thought she was weird. If she told somebody, even her mom, they might think she was crazy. They might even lock her up.
But maybe I am crazy. Maybe I need to be locked up.
She heard her mom rummaging in the kitchen and shouted, "Mom! I'm home!"
"In here, honey!" her mom shouted back. And at her mother's voice, Aurora relaxed. This is Mom I'm talking about. She'll know. She'll hug me and tell me that it's going to be all right, and it will.
Aurora bounded into the kitchen and saw her mother putting groceries away. Takeout bags from Branigan's filled the room with their french fry smell. Mother hadn't even had time to change out of her work clothes. She looked up as Aurora came in and beamed at her. "How was your day?"
"Okay, I guess. Another math quiz. I did all right."
"That's nice, honey!" Her mother put another grocery bag on the counter and pulled out a lime green and teal package. "Oh, and look what I got you from the store today." She presented it with a flourish. "Maxi pads!"
Aurora went pink. "Mom!"
Her mother clasped the package of feminine pads as though it was something precious. "Can't I be happy about my little girl growing up?"
"Sure, Mom, but--" Aurora shuddered. She snatched the package and tucked it under her arm. "Just don't let the neighbours hear, okay?"
Her mother grinned and turned back to the groceries. Aurora placed the package on the counter, then turned back to her mom, her hands clasped in front of her, knuckles whitening. "Mom?"
Head within the fridge, her mother said, "What is it, honey?"
Aurora brought her hands to her lips and steepled her fingers, but the words wouldn't come out. She opened her mouth, held it a moment, then shut it before opening it again. "Mom?"
"Yes?" The mayonnaise jar clunked against the shelf.
"Mom..." She took a deep breath. "Something strange... happened at school."
Her mother almost bumped her head on the top of the refrigerator compartment. She pulled herself up and looked at her daughter. "What happened, honey?"
"I... I was... talking to my friend, Anne. And I looked at her, and... and I could see what she was thinking. She was jealous about my jacket," Aurora began. "And Miss Daultry... she dreams about teaching a class without any students in it. And the other kids--"
She looked up at her mother and into her mother's eyes.
...Dawn leaves a squat medical building, passing the sign bearing her name and title: Dr. Dawn Perrault, Psychologist/Sleep Specialist. She crosses the asphalt patch towards the streetcar stop--
"Dawn," says a voice. "Don't go, Dawn."
A truck driver stands on the pavement in front of his black big rig, his arms folded. He wears black jeans, black cowboy boots, and a black shirt with a collar. His smile shines like the sun breaking from behind clouds.
"How do you know my name? Who are you?"
His chuckle resonates in her chest, and her breathing catches...
..."Don't be afraid," he says.
"I'm not afraid!" She knows she should be. A strange man who knows her name, asking her aboard his truck. He's bigger than her. And yet--
"You don't have to if you don't want to," he says.
--she wants to...
"Show me."
The truck drives into the night, faster and faster, breaking speed limits, but no one notices. The street lights play off its shiny black exterior, fluttering off the mirrors, teasing the shadows like feathers. The wheels lift off. Wings catch the air.
The giant crow rises skyward, Dawn clasps the back of his neck...
...Dawn nestles in an embrace of shadow.
Oh, God! Oh, God! Yes!...
Aurora jerked back, looking at anything but her mother's eyes. She needed a shower. I shouldn't be able to look into people's private dreams like this! It's just wrong!
Her mother stood by the refrigerator, her hand over her mouth. For a long moment, they stood on opposite sides of the kitchen, not looking at each other, not speaking.
Then her mother stepped forward. "Aurora, are you okay? What's wrong?" She opened her arms. "Come here, honey."
Aurora ran into her mother's arms.
"What's really happening, honey?" said her mom in her ear.
"It was weird..." Aurora's voice was muffled in her mother's sweater. "It was a weird... dream! Yeah. A weird dream." She gulped. "Weirdest dream ever."
"A dream." Her mother held Aurora out to look at her face. Her mom's face was ashen, but she nodded. "Th-that's... horrible, honey. But it was just a dream. You know that, right? You don't have to dream that again if you don't want to."
"No," said Aurora, hugging her mom close again. "No. I don't want to."
They ate dinner in silence.
The next day, Aurora saw her mother hang the first spirit ball on their front door.
#
Aurora struggled awake from only the second bout of sleep she could remember since she was twelve.
Like the first, this one left her feeling anything but refreshed. Her head ached, and her mouth tasted bitter and sticky. She groaned, kept her eyes closed, and tried to touch her forehead. When her hand remained firmly planted behind her back, she opened her eyes.
Who'd turned out the lights?
She blinked until her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She gagged at the smell. No cleaning fluid here, just rotting wood, ancient mothballs, and stale urine.
What little light there was came through a cracked window that was caked with dirt. She was lying on her side in a bathroom -- no, the same bathroom, the one she'd seen Mom in. The notice board hung askew on the wall, notices faded or ripped away, but with the photo of the missing girl still smiling at her. The sink and toilet were where she'd first seen them. The toilet looked... And she'd used it...
"Ugh!"
The mirror was spotted and cracked. Tiles were missing on the floor and walls. The bathroom seemed to have aged twenty years in a single moment. Or maybe this was just what it had always looked like, covered up by an illusion of cleanliness, just like the smell of cleaning fluid that had been all over this place.
The oddness of it all stopped her for a moment. Then, when she tried to pick herself up off the floor, she remembered that she couldn't move her hands from behind her. She looked down at herself and gasped.
Shiny grey bands wrapped around her knees and ankles, biting into her jeans. The pressure on her wrists behind her told her that they were bound as well.
Her heart pounded and her breathing quickened. He's tied me up! Tied me up like some damsel in distress!
But he hadn't gagged her. Which meant he didn't expect anybody to be around who could hear her yell. And he was probably right, which sucked. And though nobody could hear her yell, he could. And if he realized that she was awake, he could stop her from escaping before she'd even started.
She held her breath, then let it out slow. As her racing heart eased, she thought, Right. So, the first thing I have to do is keep quiet. And the next thing I have to do is get myself free. Quickly and quietly.
Aurora rolled onto her back and sat up. She leaned against a wall that sagged under her weight as she took stock of things. She looked for knots on her ropes and found... none.
They weren't ropes at all, but shiny, silky strands, thinner than hair, but so many, they held her with the strength of steel. They were like...
Spider silk.
Aurora looked up and caught movement in the gloom. Salvadore's two spiders crouched on the bathroom tiles by the toilet stall. You couldn't tell where spiders were looking so they weren't looking at her, right?
They were looking at her.
A quick glance around the bathroom told her that, other than the spiders, she was alone. She looked at the spiders again. They looked back.
No, she thought. You can drug me, tie me up and stick me in a dirty bathroom somewhere, but being guarded by spiders is where I draw the line.
With a grunt, she pushed herself up the wall to her feet. Bound ankle and knee, with her wrists tied behind her, she hopped menacingly towards the watching spiders. They quivered, then scuttled away.
"Oh, no, you don't!" Aurora judged the last leap on the fly. Something squelched beneath her shoes. "Yes!" Her cry of joy turned to an 'Eep!' as momentum tipped her forward. The dividing wall between the toilet and sink loomed in her vision. Her hands tied behind her back, there was nothing she could do.
The soggy drywall crunched under her forehead. She sank to her knees, face dragging down the mouldy surface, and lay propped there for a while.
"Ow..."
She pushed herself away and looked the false wall up and down. The tiles were cracked near the base and showed exposed edges, perfect for cutting bonds. The wall was also surrounded by a yellowish puddle of suspicious-smelling water, but a damsel had to do what a damsel had to do. She turned around, leaned against the wall and slid down, settling into the puddle. She grimaced as the smelly water -- she hoped it was water -- soaked her jeans, and began rubbing her bound wrists with the ragged edge of a broken tile. Minutes later, the bonds came apart.
She grunted triumphantly and brought her hands around to rub the pins and needles out of them. Then she set about tearing at the strands binding her knees and ankles, using fingers and sometimes teeth. She spat out mashed spider silk and was back on her feet, dripping but smiling smugly. Aurora Perrault, damsel in distress? No friggin' way!
Then she frowned. Where's Polk? How long have I been out? He should have noticed something wrong by now.
Her frown deepened. Yes, he would. And while he might be lazy, he'd try to do something about it.
So, where is he?
Her job had just become a lot harder.
She tiptoed to the bathroom door, gripped the door handle and listened for voices.
Salvadore was speaking in the next room, but he seemed to be alone. At least, she couldn't hear a second voice.
She crept out of the bathroom, careful to close the door behind her without the doorknob clicking. Crouching low, she eased forward.
"Yes, she's here," Salvadore said. "I got her, all packed up and waiting for you."
Aurora paused at the end of the housewares aisle and peered down it towards the front of the store. Salvadore was standing at the cash register, leaning on the counter with his back to her, his hand cupped to his ear.
He drew up sharply. "I didn't hurt her." There was a squabble on the other end of the line. "I didn't. Yes, she is restrained." More squabbles. "Look, she wasn't going to come quietly!"
Aurora ran her gaze across the open space between her and Salvadore. There were three aisles of groceries on her right, but the rest of the space was open except for an abandoned display bin that had once held candy bars. Above Salvadore, a security mirror displayed the whole store. Aurora could see herself in its age-scarred surface, creeping up, but Salvadore was too engrossed in his call to look up.
There was a burst of babble on the other end of the line.
"Look," snapped Salvadore, "she doesn't know the truth; she just thinks she's a normal kid -- there's no way she can believe the truth, especially if I'm the one to tell her. So, I thought I'd leave the explanation to you."
The squabbling intensified again. Salvadore raised his other hand in a futile gesture to ward it off.
Aurora crept past one shelf and into the cover of another aisle. She peered out into the open area and stepped out again. The front door was closer but still too far away for her to chance a run.
"Will you listen to me?" Salvadore cut in finally. "I gave you my word of honour that I would find her and that she will not be the worse for wear. You know how much my word is worth."
There was a brief squabble. Salvadore straightened up angrily. "Very funny! Look, you come and untie her, you talk to her, and soon you'll have her wrapped around your little finger. I assure you. Okay?"
There was a grumpy mumble at the other end, but Salvadore nodded. "Good." He half turned towards the store. Aurora froze, but he turned back. "Wait, what? The other one? I had to get him out of the way. In the course of duty, you understand?"
A brief squabble.
"Why?" echoed Salvadore. "Well, for one thing, he's bigger than her and a lot harder to dupe, that's why! I had to take stronger measures." A short gabble. "Good! Good to know."
There was a click. Salvadore dropped his empty hand to his side. He cracked his knuckles. "I'd better go check up on Charlotte, Arabella, and my charming little prisoner." Smiling, he turned around.
And Aurora brained him with the cast iron frying pan she'd picked up in aisle three.
#
Aurora burst out of the general store and blinked at the sudden brightness. The car was where they'd left it, by the gas pumps, which now looked even older and more sun-bleached, their logos faded to nothing. The nozzle stuck in their car was brown with rust. Aurora stepped around the car and tried the pump. It wasn't working. The nozzle left brown stains on her palms.
She looked around. The general store sagged where hours ago it had stood tall. The boards on the windows were coming off their nails and swinging in the wind. The barn at the top of the hill was more frame than walls. It had all been a great big fake.
But how? I saw it. I smelt it. How could it all have been a dream?
She clenched her fists. Another dream out to get me. When did I slip into it? If these dreams can catch me that easily, how can I even begin to defend myself?
"Polk?" she called. Her words echoed back at her. "Polk!"
She looked around, then down at her stained hands. She hooked the nozzle back on the gas pump, only for the hose to break off and flop to the ground, and walked around the store. "Polk!"
The fields around the store grew wild; barley mixed with saskatoons and wild grasses. Aurora's feet crunched on the gravel. She passed a pile of rusted car parts. The wind brushed back her hair. The only sound was the rustle and snap of the dirty plastic bags rising and falling above the saskatoons, caught in their never-ending updraft.
"Polk!" she shouted again.
She reached the back of the store and found him sprawled on the ground. She ran to him. "Polk!"
He lay out cold, eyes closed, eyelids fluttering. She put her ear close to his mouth and nose. He was breathing, but barely.
Aurora checked him over for injury, but there were no broken bones. No marks whatsoever, except a slight purple-red, like the start of a bruise, over his mouth and nose. Then what had knocked him out? The ground was scuffled around him, but there was only one set of footprints: his.
She leaned close and shook him by the shoulders. "Polk? Polk! Wake up!"
He mumbled and tried to roll over in his sleep.
She shook him harder. "Polk!"
He came to, yelling, clawing at unseen monsters close to his face. Aurora caught his wrists. "Polk! Polk! It's okay! It's just me!"
He stopped struggling. He blinked at her. "Aurora?" He looked past her, and his eyes widened. "Look out!"
"What--" She looked over her shoulder.
Smack! She recoiled as one of the plastic bags swept out of the air and caught her across the cheek and shoulder. She beat at it, but it clung to her.
Smack! Slap! Two more plastic bags hit her: one across the chest and one across her chin.
Slap! This one swept over her face. She felt it wrap around her head and tighten as if it had knotted behind her. She gasped and sucked in plastic.
Panic hit her, and she flailed, but she couldn't see, she couldn't grapple with anything, and she couldn't breathe. She desperately tried to suck in air, but the plastic made a taut drum over her gaping mouth. Her vision darkened.
Fingers clawed at her head, scratched her ear, and pulled the bag free. The plastic stuck like flypaper. Polk tried to throw it away, but it wrapped around his fingers and knotted over the back of his hand.
"Polk--" she started, then yelled as a bag slapped and tightened across his face until he looked like a plastic mannequin. He staggered and flailed at the plastic stretched across his mouth, his fingers useless under their plastic binding. Aurora grabbed an edge and yanked, her fingernails drawing blood across Polk's cheeks. She clutched the fluttering thing and shoved it under her foot. She saw a small fieldstone within reach and slammed it on top. The bag struggled to rise, but the rock held firm.
She looked back in time to see more bags swooping down, but Polk was ready. He batted them away. She tore off the bag that was beating at her chest and stuffed it under another fieldstone. They stood back-to-back, hands raised warily as the plastic bags circled. They swatted and clawed at any that swooped close.
Aurora shouted at the bags and the wind. "Leave us alone!"
The bags ducked and weaved for an opening, but Polk and Aurora stood ready to fend off any attack. Then the wind abruptly calmed, leaving the bags hovering in midair a moment, before another gust swept them away and vanished them into the fields of barley.
Aurora and Polk stayed where they were, back to back, arms raised. After a long moment, Aurora realized her hands were shaking. She lowered her arms. They looked at each other.
"Are you okay?" Aurora asked.
Polk bent over gasping, pressing his hands to his knees. He nodded. "More or less."
She looked across the fields, to see if any other danger was lying in wait. If there was, she couldn't see it. She grabbed his arm. "Let's get out of here." She started off towards the front of the store.
Polk followed her, staying close. "Where's that guy?" he asked as the gravel crunched. "Salvadore?"
"Unconscious. At least, I hope so. I bashed him in the head with a frying pan."
Polk whooped. "Way to go!"
The front of the store was as she'd left it. There was no sound but the wind, a low ghostly moan. They stopped at the station wagon.
"I couldn't get the pumps to work," said Polk.
"That's because there's no gas."
He looked up and down the road, and raised his hands. "This is the only place around for miles and we're nearly empty. What do we do?"
Aurora opened the car door. "Just get in and go."
Polk hesitated. "But we haven't brought anything. We've no supplies."
"Polk," she said irritably, "there's nothing here. It's just a trap. We've got to go."
"No." He pushed away from the car. "We're almost out of gas. If we run out in the middle of nowhere, we should at least have water."
"Salvadore's in there!"
"It's two against one, now, and we know what to expect." He turned towards the front door.
A change in the silence made Aurora hesitate before she followed him. She listened. A gentle roar started up at the edge of hearing and rose steadily. It could be an engine. In a moment, she'd know for sure, but by then it might be too late.
She looked up the road the way they had come. A small cloud of yellow-grey dust was rising on the horizon, almost lost among the heat shimmers coming off the asphalt.
"Polk!" she shouted. She pointed up the road. "We've got to go, now!"
He looked at the northern horizon, then came down the front steps. "Hey, this is lucky. We could use them as back-up and then hitch a ride out of here."
She shook her head. This is wrong. It's more than just drugged ice cream sodas and demonic plastic bags. This isn't a matter of three strikes, and you're out. That truck, whatever it is, is the only vehicle we've seen on this road since running from Cooper's Corners. That can't be a coincidence. But how can I convince Polk when he's just so oblivious?
A thought struck her, and she leaned against the car. "Polk, four points. What is it?"
He closed his eyes automatically. "It's a rig." He tilted his head. "It will be black, with..." He frowned. "That's strange... I can't tell--"
Just like that rig that had brought the dark man and his vision of crows. Aurora opened her door wider and slid in. "Polk, get in, we're leaving!" She fumbled with the ignition, and the car grumbled to life. "Get in, dammit!"
Polk ducked into the passenger seat and slammed his door. "What are you doing? We'll end up stuck on the side of the road, sitting ducks!"
"We'll have to hide the car." Aurora put the car in gear.
"Hide?" Polk waved a hand at the wide-open landscape. Nothing was more than chest height. "Where?"
The car hit the road with a spray of gravel. The low-gas indicator on the dashboard began to flash and ding. "I know, I know," Aurora muttered.
They topped a ridge and stared down at a small valley barely fifty metres wide. A short bridge over a narrow creek lay at the bottom.
"There!" Aurora pointed.
"Where?"
Aurora twisted the wheel and the station wagon careened off the road. Polk clutched the grab handle above the door. The car jounced. Branches beat against the front grille. Aurora twisted the wheel and the car staggered onto the creek bed -- not much more than a strip of mud. She kept twisting, and the roadway came back into view. The creek passed through a culvert barely as tall and wide as the car. Aurora revved the engine. The wheels spun, producing a wake in the muddy water like a motorboat.
Polk sat up in his seat and grabbed for more handholds. "Oh, no."
"Oh, yes," said Aurora, her face grim.
Polk yelled as the car smashed into the culvert. The side mirrors sheared off. The sides of the car squealed like fingernails on a blackboard. Sparks flew from the corrugated metal of the culvert. Aurora and Polk pitched forward. The airbags billowed out to catch them.
There was a moment of near-silence as Aurora and Polk sat, gasping. Then Aurora shoved the airbag canvas away and turned off the ignition.
"There," she breathed. "We're hidden."
Polk tried the car door. It wouldn't open. "We're also stuck."
She nodded over her shoulder. "Hello? We're in a station wagon!"
He turned around. Behind the back seats was the station wagon's hatch. It was shaded by the top of the culvert.
"Let's go," she said.
They crawled up the bank and along the drainage ditch, keeping low. They stopped when the abandoned store came into view. The yellow-brown cloud had materialized into a black ten-wheeler rig, roaring up the road towards them. Its trailer stretched back, also black, but strangely fuzzy in the heat shimmers. Aurora remembered it from the day before all this started. So, it hadn't been just a dream.
"Why are we running from a truck?" Polk muttered.
"That truck was in my dream."
"So, we're dreaming, now?" he asked.
That's a good question, thought Aurora. But I'd woken up from the dream that made me think that the general store wasn't an abandoned relic. Have I slipped back in? When had I? It's getting hard to tell what's real and what isn't.
"Let's just keep out of sight, okay?" she muttered.
The truck pulled up in front of the general store and cut its engines. The door opened, and a black figure eased out, taking the steps slowly, before jumping to the ground. He straightened up. Aurora recognized him from the diner -- and from her mother's dream three years ago. Black hair, black shirt, black pants, black boots. He sucked in the light around him. She could feel the pull from where she crouched.
The black figure turned sharply and scanned the distance all around. Aurora and Polk pulled their heads down and held their breath.
Then, with a crunch of gravel, the black figure strode into the general store. The screen door slammed shut behind him. Silence fell.
Aurora peered out from their hiding place. Polk pinched her arm. She gasped and slapped him in the back of the head. "Ow!"
He winced. "Ow! I was just trying to wake you."
"When I want your help, I'll ask for it! Now be quiet!"
A howl burst from the general store and rose until it made Aurora want to cover her ears. It cut off suddenly as the screen door opened and Salvadore came, half flying, half stumbling out. He staggered down the stairs, clutching his forehead from where Aurora had brained him, and ran face-first into the side of the black rig.
Salvadore turned as the screen door opened again. He stood by the rig, crouched, hands clasped, talking a mile a minute and keeping his head low. The black-clad figure grabbed him by the collar and manhandled him into the passenger side of the cab.
Then, striding around to the driver's side of the rig, the man climbed into the truck and slammed the door. The engine roared to life, and the black rig eased onto the road and picked up speed. Aurora and Polk pulled deeper into their hiding place as the rig topped the ridge, but it didn't stop. It passed, its edges blurred and fluttering. Peering up, Aurora realized that the whole trailer was nothing more than a flock of crows, keeping pace with the rig, and keeping the shape of the truck. Half a dozen plastic bags sailed past in its wake.
They crouched in hiding until the roar faded into the distance. The dust settled around them like hot, dry snow. When the only sound was the wind rustling the grasses around them, Aurora stood up and walked out. She stood in the centre of the roadway, staring at where the truck had gone.
Polk followed her, standing on the shoulder of the road, looking back and forth along its length. "Was that truck made of--"
"Yes."
"Are we dreaming?"
Aurora pinched her arm, winced, then pinched her arm again. Nothing happened. "I don't know." Engines sighed overhead and she looked up. High above them, a distant plane left a thin contrail across the cornflower-blue sky like a visitor from the land of normal. She looked down again. "I don't think so."
"Huh." Polk looked both ways along the roadway again. "Your dreams are chasing us."
"I know."
"They're between us and where we want to go."
"Yes."
He stuffed his hands in his denim jacket pockets. "So, what do we do?"
Aurora took several long, deep breaths. "We have to find another way to Saskatoon."
She looked out across the countryside. In the heat of the rising sun, the air started to shimmer.