By James Bow

<<- Back to Chapter Five

The Dream King's Daughter - Chapter Six: Solitude

The following Monday at school, Aurora found herself in the cloakroom, hanging up her jacket beside Anne. The two girls looked at each other.

"Hey," said Aurora.

"Hey," said Anne.

They stood in silence.

"Look," said Anne. "I'm sorry."

Relief flooded into Aurora so hard it made her dizzy. "I'm sorry too!"

"It's just that... yeah, you're right, I'm jealous," said Anne. "Your mom can afford to get you all the good stuff, and my parents can barely get me a cake on my birthday. I just... I didn't think you could see it."

"I didn't," stammered Aurora. "It's... complicated."

"I like you," said Anne. "You're a good friend. I just wish---"

"I know," said Aurora.

They clasped hands. Without meaning to, Aurora looked Anne in the eye.

Laughter ripples through the classroom, rising in waves to a crescendo. Aurora stands in everybody's sights, her presentation forgotten, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Um..." Aurora's mouth opens and closes. Tears trickle down her cheeks. Even Miss Daultry is laughing.

Aurora snatched her hands from Anne's grasp. She backed away.

"What?" said Anne, blinking at her. "Aurora, what?"

Aurora turned away and stormed out of the cloakroom, leaving Anne behind.

At the door to the classroom, Aurora ran into an oncoming flurry of arms.

She recoiled, but Albijana caught her and wrapped her in a hug. Aurora stood, arms locked to her sides, as Albijana held her close.

"It worked!" Albijana squeezed tighter. "It worked!"

"What worked?"

"In my dream. When the planes came, I chose to fly. I found my Dad and we flew away."

The light dawned. "You did?" Aurora broke into a grin.

Albijana nodded vigorously. "I did! We flew over the ocean! We stood on clouds!"

Aurora hugged Albijana. "That's great!" Then she gently eased Albijana's arms away and stepped back. "That's wonderful!"

Albijana beamed. "Thank you!"

At the head of the classroom, Miss Daultry clapped her hands and called the class to attention. Albijana turned and headed for her desk.

As Aurora watched, she felt herself grinning like an idiot, even as Miss Daultry rebuked her for not getting to her desk quick enough. She couldn't stop. Her heart felt suddenly and impossibly light.

I could use this, she thought.

I could use this.

#

Aurora stepped carefully in the waning moonlight, alert for holes or sudden dips she could twist her ankle in. The grasses brushed her jeans. The wind made the only sound.

By the time the sky was starting to lighten, she was miles away from Polk. Rolling hills surrounded her. She might as well be the last person on Earth, now.

When the sun peeked over her shoulder, brightening the landscape into ridges of flower and shadow, Aurora put it on her left and headed south. She was used to waiting tables. She was used to being on her feet all day. But her legs ached, and there was still far to go.

People can die in situations like this, she thought. People have died. I'm crossing a wilderness on foot at the height of summer. Only an idiot would try this.

Call me an idiot, then. What choice do I have?

The sun rose. Its heat pressed down on her back like a hand. The birds twittered. She hunched down, focusing on each step as she plodded forward. Step by step, she was getting closer to her goal.

Whatever that goal was.

The shadows grew shorter. The birds stopped twittering. Aurora's legs ached. Her head ached. She stopped and gulped down a bottle of water. She looked out at the rolling landscape and moaned.

A faint noise from behind her caught her attention. She looked around, but she was in a gigantic bowl and could see nothing. She listened hard. It came again.

"Aurora!" It was Polk's voice, at the top of his lungs, but at the very edge of her hearing. He was very far back. She couldn't see him. That meant he couldn't see her, either. She shouldered her canvas sack and wiped the sweat from her face. Taking a deep breath, she strode on faster.

Polk's cry echoed over the rolling landscape.

"No, Polk," she muttered. "Leave me alone."

"Why?" Anne fell into step beside her. "Why do you always want to be alone?"

Aurora looked up and stumbled. Anne caught her by the arm and steadied her. Aurora stared at her.

Anne looked years older than when Aurora had last seen her. Well, it had been years since she had last seen her.

"What are you doing here?!"

"Keeping you from talking to yourself, of course," said Anne. "You don't want to make people think you're crazy, do you?"

Aurora let out a short, sharp laugh and walked on. "Too late." She looked at her former best friend again. Anne wore a fuchsia crop top, dark jeans and shiny running shoes. The designer labels were tastefully prominent. "How did you afford all that stuff?"

"Got a job. Clothing store. Employee discount. They're the only good clothes I have."

"Mother still scrimping?"

Anne shrugged. "Yeah, but she's going to get me to college. What about you?" She ran her eyes up and down Aurora. "You look like you haven't seen the inside of a Lululemon in years."

"I haven't. What's so bad about that? I'm working."

Anne chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

"It's just weird," Anne said. "We've swapped places, haven't we?"

Aurora scratched the back of her neck and smiled. "It's been an interesting few years."

"Really?" Anne flicked an eyebrow. "Not if you spent it the way you spent the last months I saw you. You went off into your own world there. Wasn't it lonely?"

"Of course it was! You think I wanted this? Not being able to look anybody in the eye?" Aurora waved her hands, shaking the argument off. "This is stupid! You don't know any of this stuff! You're a figment of my imagination!"

"Or a hallucination brought about by thirst," said Anne. "Then again, maybe not. You read dreams, Aurora. You read my dreams. Do you think any explanation is going to make sense? Maybe I'm dreaming. Maybe you're reaching into my dreams, pulling me out to talk to you. Ever think of that?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Maybe you have questions?"

Aurora gave her a sideways look. "Do people miss me back home?"

Anne tilted her head. "We wondered where you went. There were a lot of rumours. But after a few weeks with no news, we moved on." She shrugged. "What did you expect? It's been, like, years!"

Aurora looked at her feet and kicked up dust as she walked. "I know."

"I missed you." Anne reached out and clasped Aurora's hand.

"Even after all I said to you?" asked Aurora.

"I'm sorry," said Anne. "I was jealous. I couldn't help that. But just because I was jealous didn't mean I didn't want to be your friend."

Aurora smiled. "Thanks."

They plodded along, Anne standing tall, Aurora bent nearly double by the weight of the sun and the canvas bag.

"How long have you been walking?" Anne asked.

"You sound like Polk," Aurora muttered.

"It's a simple question."

"Not long enough!"

"You're going to kill yourself if you don't rest."

"I can't," said Aurora.

"You have to--"

"I can't!" Aurora shouted. "If I lie down, I'll just stare at the sky and drive myself crazy. Don't you understand? I don't sleep. I haven't slept since I got my first period. It just doesn't happen."

Anne chuckled and shook her head. "And to think I was jealous of you." Her smile shifted to a frown. "You have to try."

Aurora grimaced as pain shot up her calves. "I'm on the run. I can't waste time trying to sleep--"

She stumbled on the uneven ground. Anne grabbed her, and a second set of hands helped haul her up.

Aurora blinked to find herself staring into Albijana's older but still cheery grin.

"You need rest," said Albijana. "You've been walking two days straight. What, you think you're Superman or something?"

"Are you two ganging up on me?" Aurora looked from one to the other blearily. She struggled to focus on the landscape ahead.

"Come on," said Albijana. "We'll keep the nightmares at bay. It's the least I can do."

Roger flashed into existence in front of them. Aurora flinched. Albijana scowled, and Roger vanished in a haze of heat.

"I don't--" Aurora began.

"Try," Anne and Albijana chorused.

"You can take our dreams," said Anne. "Maybe that's not the only thing you can borrow."

They pushed her up the hill. As she walked, they faded into the air behind her. Aurora reached the top and looked around.

The landscape spread out around her. It seemed to go on forever. And above her there was only sky.

She dropped to her knees and fell backward onto the wild grasses. She looked up at the blue dome and felt as though she were flying.

It was as though she had shrunk to the size of an ant or a microbe. She felt as though the blades of grass towered over her. She felt as if everything was around her, and yet she felt as if, in the whole universe, there was only her.

Even if she were naked, she couldn't have been more vulnerable, or more free.

"So, this is what it's like to dream." Her eyelids fluttered. "I'd forgotten."

And, for the first time she could remember, she voluntarily fell asleep.

#

A grass stalk tickled Aurora's face and she woke. Waking up felt weird, like surfacing from deep water. She sat up and shielded her eyes against the sunset. She looked around. Everything looked the way she had left it, but it all felt different. She felt refreshed. Her legs didn't ache, but there was more. The world spoke to her in crisp colour. The ground was ochre, the sky above a rich blue.

She stood and stretched, then took deep breaths of the cooling evening air. If this was what it was like to wake up, she felt a little sad to have missed out all these years. But she was ready to take on the world.

"Thanks, Anne," she muttered. "Thanks, Albijana."

She drank a bottle of water, pacing herself so she didn't chug it, and ate a breakfast (or was it a dinner?) of cold beans. Then she picked up the bag. Keeping the sunset on her right, she walked on.

As she walked, she watched a thunderstorm drift north -- not like the one in her dream at Matron's diner, but a single isolated storm, rising in the late day heat and marching across the rolling fields to the west, trailing a shadow of rain and lancing the ground with lightning. In the rolls of thunder, she felt her heart flutter and lift. She waved at the storm as it passed. An airplane passed overhead, the sound of its engines rising above the wind, and she shaded her eyes to watch it. She walked until half the sky was dark and the sun glowed red on the horizon.

She froze at a sound like a baby rattle. I heard that before recently. Where? She looked around and spotted movement. She turned. The head of a rattlesnake rose above the tall grass.

Another rattle behind her. And another to her left. Aurora turned some more. Eight rattlesnakes surrounded her, arranged like the points of a compass. Each was over a metre long, their patterned backs the colour of stone.

What the heck?

Aurora ducked back as a snake approached and tried to dodge between two of them, only to have the snakes slither into her path. Their eyes followed her as she backed up to the centre of the circle. This isn't natural. Were there ever any rattlesnakes around here? Isn't this too far north?

It's another trap.

She scanned the horizon, and spotted a figure coming towards her out of the northwest, a silhouette against the sunset. She glared, recognizing him before he called out to her.

"Hello, there!" Salvadore stopped outside the circle of snakes and stood with his hands clasped behind his back. "You look like you could use a little help! How fortunate that I just happened along--"

"Oh, just cut the crap!"

Salvadore gave her a disappointed look. Then he drew himself up. "Come with me."

She folded her arms. "No!"

He took a deep breath and stepped forward. "Come with me... please?"

Aurora cocked her head. "You know, you might have considered asking me nicely, first, before you drugged me!"

He raised his eyebrows. "Would you really have come with me if I'd asked politely first?"

"I'd have wanted to know why."

"Ah. Well, then. I'm sorry. I wouldn't have had the time to explain. I don't do well with questions that have complicated answers. Now, are you coming or not?" He gestured, and the snakes slithered towards her.

Aurora backed up. "How did you find me?" she snapped, desperate.

He grinned. "It wasn't hard when I found your trail, though you do move fast for such a little one. Don't you sleep?"

Aurora let out a laugh of disbelief. "You found me in mile after mile of Saskatchewan wilderness and then came right here, right away? I don't believe it! Where'd you even park?"

He shrugged. "I admit, I had a lucky break. We can travel fast if we need to. At the speed of dreams, you might say."

Aurora backed away from an advancing snake, but at Salvadore's words, she jerked up. "What did you say?"

"Surely, you've guessed this already! People like me - like us - play in the collective unconscious of the human mind - the dreamworld, you might say. All I needed was the subconscious thoughts of someone who had you in their line of sight to realize where you were and, with a bit of an effort, materialize."

"But I haven't seen anybody since--" Her mouth dropped open. "The airplane?"

"And there I was!" He winced and rubbed his back. "Bit of a hard landing. That's one reason we don't do that too often." He clasped his hands together. "Now, I know you're playing for time, so here's the deal: come with me and get a full explanation of what's going on. Don't and-- oh, where did it go?" He patted his pockets and pulled out a vial and a syringe. "I inject you with this life-saving antivenom after these snakes--"

There was a flash of movement. Aurora yelled as a snake struck at her. She ducked away, tumbled, and suddenly the snakes were upon her, rattling. She flung up her hands. She heard the shift of air as the snakes struck -- then a click as they hit... something. Then silence.

She opened her eyes, then looked up, heart pounding. The snakes surrounded her, staring down, jaws open, venom dripping, all leaning at an angle that suggested they were leaning on glass. They looked almost sheepish.

Aurora blinked. Did I do that? How did I do that?

She moved her hands, gestured and thought, get away from me.

The snakes closed their mouths and slithered away, disappearing into the undergrowth. Aurora sat up.

Salvador cleared his throat. "That was... interesting. You're not as helpless as you look."

Nobody could be as helpless as I look, thought Aurora. But as the last of the rattlesnakes vanished, she felt a surge of hope.

"Okay, then." Salvadore pocketed the vial and syringe. "New plan. You still want that explanation, right?"

Aurora shoved herself to her feet. She glared at Salvadore. "Who sent you?"

He nodded brightly. "Come with me and I'll tell you."

"No. Tell me here, now!"

"I told you the answer's complicated. Do you really want to know, right now?"

"Of course I do!"

"Your father."

"What? No!"

Salvadore sighed. "See? I knew you wouldn't believe me. This is why I don't have these conversations just standing around outside."

"I never knew my father!" Aurora yelled "He was never around when I grew up. Never! Mom didn't talk about him. There aren't any pictures of him--"

He shook his head, smiling sadly. "Just because you've never seen your father doesn't mean he isn't looking for you. Why do you think your mother ran?"

Aurora gaped at him.

He smiled and reached out. "Come with me, and I will explain everything. Isn't it time you learned the truth?"

Aurora stared, then took a tentative step forward. Suddenly, Matron's voice echoed in her head: You can't let him take you, girl! It'll be disaster if he does! She saw the funnel cloud of crows descending; heard the rifle going off.

She stepped back. "No."

Salvadore's glare darkened the sky, but Aurora stood firm. "No. I'm done. I'm sick of being hunted. I'm sick of being played with. I'm going to walk away and nothing, and no one, is going to stop me."

Salvadore smirked. "You'll be leaving your boyfriend in the lurch."

Aurora's nostrils flared. "He's not my boyfriend!"

"Maybe not, but he certainly sees himself as your knight in shining armour," said Salvadore. "Fought valiantly, I must say. It'll hurt to realize you've abandoned him. Though I don't think the hurt will last much longer." He checked his watch. "Nope. Not much longer at all."

The colour drained from Aurora's cheeks. "What--"

Salvadore ran at her, yelling. Without thinking, Aurora ducked aside, tripped him, and punched him on the back of his neck as he went down. She turned to run, then fell as he grabbed her ankle. She kicked, but he wouldn't let go. Her mind roiled as adrenalin kicked in.

I'm fighting for my life against a man who can control snakes! In a world where I'm attacked by my dreams.

Wait! I controlled the snakes, too, or blocked them. What if--

She imagined snakes. She remembered them. She remembered a spring morning when she and Mom went north of Winnipeg to Narcisse where dens of garter snakes came out from hibernation. There were thousands of them. Tens of thousands. She shuddered at the memory. The ground had seethed.

And as she remembered this, the ground dropped beneath Salvadore.

He yelled as snakes slithered around him. He yelled louder when the slithered over him. Aurora struggled to scramble back, but his grip tightened on her ankle as he sank like in quicksand. "No!" he shouted, fear and shock in his voice. "No! Don't leave me!"

Aurora aimed her other foot and smashed it into his nose.

He let go. The garter snakes covered him, and he vanished underground. A hand reached desperately for the sky before sinking. The snakes sank too, until only grass and dirt remained.

Aurora sat up, gasping, staring at the sunken ground where Salvadore had been. She took a deep breath: "Holy sh--"

Her words caught in her throat. What did he say about Polk?

Aurora scrambled to her feet. "Polk!" she shouted. "Polk!"

She ran back the way she'd come.

#

Aurora stumbled in the dying evening light. "Polk!" she shouted. "Polk!"

She kept running until she'd left Salvadore far behind, but she couldn't outrun the fear that gripped her chest. How was she going to find Polk in all of this emptiness?

She staggered to a stop. "Polk!"

Only the wind answered.

She beat her fists against her sides. This isn't fair? If Polk dies because of me, I'll never forgive myself! She ran her hand through her hair. I can read people's dreams. That has to be good for something. There has to be some way to find Polk. Has to be!

She lowered her hands. Maybe there is a way. It's a longshot, but what choice do I have?

She closed her eyes and took slow, deep breaths. Cleansing breath in, stressed air out. Cleansing breath in. She held it. Thank you, Dr. Zane. Another breath. Where are you, Polk?

She turned slowly and stopped when she felt a tug on her mind, a tug like north pulling the point of a compass. She took a step forward, then another. And another. The pull came stronger.

Aurora opened her eyes. She was facing roughly the way she'd come last night. There was nothing in front of her but more rolling hills, but she set off at a run. She ran until the twilight disappeared. She stumbled in the dark, drawn by that magnetic pull, until the moon rose in the southeast. She brushed past grasses and leafy saskatoon shrubs. Bullberry thorns snagged her jeans, but she pushed on. Finally, when she was almost out of breath, she reached a clearing and the pull stopped. Aurora stopped. She staggered a little as she looked around.

"Polk?" she croaked.

She tripped on something at the edge of the clearing and fell full length. She sat up and looked, and her hand went to her mouth.

Polk lay tangled in the saskatoons. Their stalks and leaves wrapped around him, holding him half-upright, binding his legs and arms and twisting him into a painful, unnatural shape. More stalks had clamped over his mouth, while others had wrapped across his neck.

His eyes were closed. He wasn't breathing. As Aurora watched, the stalks tightened around his neck.

She scrambled forward. "No! Let him go! Let him go!" She grabbed and tore at the stalks. They held like rope and twisted in her fingers. Yelling, she clawed at the plant. Bits came free. Stalks snapped. Another branch swung at her, but she batted it away. She tore away the leaves and attacked the stalks with her hands, her nails, her feet and her teeth until the last stalk came free, and she pulled Polk's limp body into the clearing. The plants stretched out to grab her, but drew back when they couldn't reach her.

Aurora crouched on her hands and knees, breathing heavily. "Polk? Polk!" She slapped his cheeks, listened for a breath, checked his pulse. She found it, weak and slow, and sobbed with relief. He was still alive. But he wouldn't be for long if he didn't start breathing.

She tilted his head back, opened his mouth and pinched his nose. Placing her mouth over his, she breathed into him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his chest rise. She pulled back, then breathed into him again. And again.

On her fifth try, Polk coughed. His eyes fluttered open. His voice was barely a whisper. "Are you doing the Prince Charming role, now?"

She laughed. Her eyes glistened and she cleared her nose with a sniff. "You're okay!"

He beamed at her. Then his eyes widened, and he rolled away suddenly, and lay, retching, his hands to his throat. He wheezed. Aurora kept her hand on his back. Polk collapsed on his stomach and breathed deep. Coughs spasmed through him again. In between gasps, he said, "I searched for you. Salvadore found me."

"I know. He found me too."

He looked up at her. "How -- did you -- get away?"

"He wanted to take me alive. That made it easier."

"Oh." Polk took several more gasping breaths. "Where is he?"

She nodded over her shoulder. "Back there somewhere. But we should get going." She got her hands under his arm and helped him stand.

He straightened up and looked at her. "Why did you run away?"

"Not now." Supporting his weight on her shoulder, she pulled him forward. "Where are the railway tracks?"

"This way," he wheezed. They shuffled forward to the edge of the clearing. Aurora flashed the plants a searing look, and they parted to let them pass.

Together, Aurora and Polk staggered into the night.

#

The next hours blurred as they stumbled across the moonlit prairie, scratching themselves on grasses and thorns. Polk was soon able to walk without Aurora's help, but she kept hold of his hand. He occasionally coughed or touched his throat. Aurora kept pace, but her mind tossed and turned.

"Who sent you?"

"You really want to know?"

"Yes!"

"Your father."

"What? No!"

"Just because you've never seen your father doesn't mean he's dead. Or that he isn't looking for you. Why do you think your mother ran?"

How could this monster who could call up crows, attack her in dreams, and hire snake-masters, be her father? It was incredible.

Her eyes focused on Polk, a wilting shadow in the moonlight. His dream showed me he'd known this crow-man who was after me. Awake, though, he's clearly not on that crow-man's side. Why is he protecting me?

They reached the tracks with the moon overhead. They walked on south, rocks clacking beneath their feet as they stepped from tie to tie. Aurora hefted the bag over her shoulders and kept a close eye on Polk, who walked in a daze.

He's exhausted, she thought. Well, why wouldn't he be? I slept through most of the day and haven't had plants strangle me.

But it wasn't safe to stand still anymore. The tussle with Salvadore showed that the ones who were after her were no longer watching just the road. And given how Salvadore had found her, pointing to the airplane, that told her that once she got to Saskatoon, she'd be even easier to find.

So, we have to keep moving. And there's no way Polk is going to be able to do that for much longer. And in this barren place, there were so few places to hide.

So, what the hell do I do? Pray?

I suppose it couldn't hurt.

Lord, get us out of this mess. Please.

Polk looked up. "What's that?"

Aurora looked. A pickup truck was parked on the rails of a track siding. Aurora frowned, then saw that the truck had been modified to run on those rails. The rubber wheels pushed it forward, but metal wheels in front and behind kept the truck on track. The logo of the railway was plastered on the truck doors, as they saw when they came up beside it.

Oh my. Aurora glanced up at the sky.

Polk tried the door handle on the truck's passenger side. It opened easily. The interior light went on.

"We're not going to steal somebody's ride," said Aurora.

"There's nobody around. Maybe they left it here and took a train home?"

Aurora scanned the horizon. There were no lights, no houses, no camp. "Are the keys in the ignition?"

Polk leaned into the cab. "Nope."

Aurora nodded. It couldn't have been that easy.

"I could hotwire it, though."

"What?" Aurora pulled him from the cab. "Where did you learn how to do that?"

He looked at her seriously. "From Joe and his gang. We were bored. We didn't have anything else to do."

"So, you stole cars?!"

"I didn't!" snapped Polk. "I don't know about Joe. But... I think it was only his dad's car, and he put it back because there was nowhere else to go."

Aurora heaved a huge sigh. "God, I miss the big city."

Polk reached behind the steering wheel. (A steering wheel? thought Aurora. On a railroad?) He began pulling out wires. Two minutes later, the engine roared to life, and Aurora decided she would buy an anti-theft device for her first car.

But as Polk shifted over into the driver's side, Aurora reached through the window and tugged his sleeve. She pointed at the passenger seat. "You sit there. I'm driving."

"I can handle this--"

"Just get some rest, okay?" She tugged harder.

He sagged like a handful of wet noodles. Then he straightened up. "You promise not to run off?"

She smiled at him and crossed her heart.

He settled into the passenger seat and leaned back. Aurora came around the truck and slid into the driver's seat. The dashboard was similar to Matron's station wagon, with a set of railway-related computer equipment Aurora thought she could safely ignore. She pulled the truck into gear and pressed the accelerator. She reached for the steering wheel, then pulled back as the rails did the steering for her. There was a clatter underfoot as the siding merged with the mainline. The metal wheels sang as the truck picked up speed.

Polk began to snore. Images of his wheat field dream invaded her vision, but she pushed them away and concentrated on the drive.

"It'll be okay," she muttered. The headlights lit up a signpost beside the rails. It said 'SASKATOON: 200KM' "It'll be okay. Matron told us to go to the city. She must have known what she was doing. Maybe the person she is sending us to can help us."

The rails sang beneath her and the ties rushing at her blurred.

It won't be long, now.

<<- Back to Chapter Four

The Dream King's Daughter - Chapter Five: As the Crow Flies

Aurora slammed into dreams every time she looked a classmate in the eye.  By the end of the first week, she was sick with it.  At recess, she sat in a window well at the base of the school, rolling a tennis ball between her feet. Laughter echoed around her. Roger and his muscle stumbled into view, cackling as they wrestled, staggering close to Aurora. She looked away.

Roger righted himself and shoved his friends away. They darted off, laughing. Roger leered at her. Aurora kept her gaze on the ground. When he ran off, Aurora glared at his back. Then she went back to kicking the tennis ball between her feet.

"Hey!" The sound of Albijana's aggrieved voice made Aurora look up.

At the school gate, Albijana stood trembling with frustration as Roger turned her red rubber ball over in his hands.

"Cool ball," he said, twisting out of her reach. "I bet if you bounce it really hard, it could go really high."

"Give it back!" Albijana wailed.

"Just let me test it." Roger pretended to bounce the ball on the ground, then hauled back and tossed it with all his might. It sailed high into the air, clearing the third-story windows of the school before disappearing above the roofline.

Roger grinned at Albijana. "Yup. It goes really high."

His friends laughed. Albijana stood rigid, fists clenched. Then she said something in Arabic. One of her friends heard it and gasped.

Roger sneered at her. "Out of my way, you little monkey."

People stopped and stared, but Roger pushed past Albijana and walked away. The girl turned and walked to the school wall, her shoulders slumped and her head down. She walked right up to Aurora without looking up, and would have bumped into her if Aurora hadn't cleared her throat.

Albijana jumped back. "I'm sorry!"

Aurora gave her a small smile. "It's okay." She shifted over to one side of the window well, making room. Albijana hesitated, then sat down on the concrete sill.

"Talk to a caretaker," said Aurora. "He can go to the roof and get it."

Albijana sniffed. "Okay."

They waited in silence for the school bell to ring.

Aurora looked at Albijana's light brown skin and long, dark hair. "Did they bomb your country?"

Albijana looked at her sharply.

Aurora swallowed. "I just... I read--"

"Yes," said Albijana, her eyes dark. Aurora shook the sound of air raid sirens out of her head.

"Why?" Albijana asked.

"I just-- I mean, I wanted to know-- You seemed-- It's--"

Albijana turned away. "Yes," she said again. "I hate it. I hate them."

"But you're safe here," said Aurora quietly.

Albijana shook her head. She picked up a pebble and turned it around in her fingers. "They're in my dreams. The bombs. The soldiers. Everybody running away. They won't stop."

Silence stretched.

"You know," said Aurora carefully. "It is... just... a dream."

"It's not a dream!" Albijana threw the stone to the ground. "It's not! It happened! It..." Her voice trailed off and she bit her lip.

"I know it happened," said Aurora quickly. "But when you go back in your dreams, it's still a dream. It's not real in your dreams."

"It feels real." Albijana tossed the pebble aside. "They say... if you die in your dreams, you die in real life."

"But... you don't have to do what the dreams tell you to do."

Albijana frowned at her, but she didn't turn away.

"Look," said Aurora, "My mother knows dreams. She says they're all the same; they take place in your head. It's all a part of your imagination. Well, we use our imagination all the time, right? We play rocket ships on the monkey bars. We play Fortress on the playground equipment. If we can make things into other things in our imagination, so, why not in our dreams?"

Albijana's brow furrowed.

"Try it," said Aurora. "Tell your dreams that you won't dream this anymore. Tell your dreams that you're taking over and doing what you want."

The school bell rang. Albijana stood up, still frowning. She walked to the doors without looking back.

#

Aurora and Polk decided to explore the abandoned store, first.

The screen door came off its hinges when Polk pulled on it. Inside, they covered their mouths and noses at the overpowering smell of mildew. Sunlight fell in shafts from gaps in the boards hammered over the windows. The floor was white, except for the dark footprints Aurora and Salvadore had left behind in the dust.

Aurora picked up a package of licorice off its display rack, sniffed it, then smacked it against the cash counter. The licorice shattered into a million pieces.

"There's nothing here." She tossed the rest of the package aside.

"There's got to be something." Polk blew a cloud of dust off a can of beans and turned it in his hands before holding it out to her. "See? This doesn't expire for another month."

"Oh, goody."

Aurora wandered around the store, raising clouds of dust. The cash register was open, its display showing a tab marked "No Sale". The drawer was empty. Then her foot hit something beneath the cash register. It was a cardboard pallet half full of water bottles.

She knelt down. "Polk! Over here!"

Polk rushed over and did a little shuffle of triumph. "Great! That's exactly what I was hoping for." He picked up a bottle, peered at it, and shook it. "Looks okay." He tossed her one.

She caught it, unscrewed the cap and took a swig, which became a chug. She gulped down the water and tossed the empty bottle aside, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "It's good," she said.

"Worth looking around after all?"

"Yeah, yeah."

Polk's grin faded. "How on earth are we going to carry all this?"

They found a dusty canvas bag tucked in the drawer under the broken cash register. They packed all the water they could into it. This filled the bag halfway and they were still able to carry it. Then they argued over the beans.

"They're useless, heavy, and frankly disgusting," said Aurora, her hands on her hips, wrinkling her nose as Polk waved a can in front of her.

"We're going to have to eat too, you know."

"I'll wait."

"You'll starve."

"I'm not going to starve!"

Polk heaved a long-suffering sigh.

She snatched the canvas bag. "Okay, you want beans? Have some beans!" She shoved an entire shelf full of cans into the canvas bag and handed it to him. Polk took the bag and dropped it on his foot.

Aurora stood with arms folded as Polk hopped about.

He rubbed his toe. "Thanks a million!" He dug into the bag and plunked half the cans back on the shelf. He hefted the bag in front of her. "Compromise?"

She weighed it in her hand. "You promise to carry this whenever I get tired?"

"Sure."

"Deal."

They picked up a can opener and plastic spoons from the housewares aisle and headed for the front door. At the front stood a rack of baseball caps. Polk picked one up and blew off a cloud of dust that made Aurora choke. He picked up another, beat the dust off against his pant leg, and handed it to her.

Aurora sneered at it. It was a denim cap with the Playboy logo on it. "I'm not wearing that!"

"In this weather, it's that or sunstroke."

Aurora grabbed the cap and tossed it away. She flipped through the rack and found a white cap with a Baltimore Ravens football logo on it. She beat the dust off and pulled it on.

Polk pulled on his hat. It was black and had the initials N.Y.P.D. stitched across it. "Ready?"

Aurora looked out the door at the wide, rolling landscape, and was struck again with the sense of being one of the last two humans in existence. The air in the store was heating up as fast as an oven. Outside, heat waves quivered above the ground.

Out in that with only beans and water? What the hell am I doing?

And what the hell am I doing getting Polk involved?

Polk turned to step outside, but she grabbed the doorframe, blocking him. He frowned at her. "What?"

"Where do you think you're going?"

He looked from her to the road and back again. "Saskatoon, like you said." He drew back from her, and his frown deepened. "With you."

Aurora stepped into the sunlight and gripped both sides of the door frame. "You don't have to." She pushed out her words. "If Matron's right, and it's me they're after, then you could just walk away, and be safe. So, why don't you be safe? As long as you're next to me, they're after you as well."

He shook his head. "No way. You're going to hike in a Saskatchewan heat wave? Miles from anywhere? That's insane! You might as well walk the Sahara."

"It's not that bad!"

"Is too!"

"Polk, don't go all Prince Charming on me. You don't have the looks, and you don't have the sword. This is between me and whoever is following me."

He reddened. "'Prince Charming'? Is that why you think I'm doing this? You want me to walk away while you face it all alone? You're insane! How can you think I'd do that, to anyone?"

"You could go see if Matron's all right," she said quietly.

They both winced. It was cruel to say that, but it needed saying. With the dark man focused on her, Matron could be okay for all they knew. But they didn't know. And Polk would want to know at least as much as she did.

He stood a long minute, his eyes closed. Then he looked up and looked her in the eye.

Polk walks through the wheat, his heart beating faster.

Aurora blinked the dream away and focused on Polk's forehead.

He took a deep breath. "I'm. Coming. With. You." He gave a final nod.

Aurora couldn't help smiling. "Okay. Thanks." She let go of the door frame. "Let's go."

"I'd bake in Prince Charming's armour, anyway," he muttered. He pulled the cloth straps of the canvas sack over each shoulder and wore the bag like a backpack.

They sauntered down the steps, walked back to the crest of the hill and stood looking down the road. The wind was still. The sun beat down from halfway up the eastern horizon. The sky had opened into a crystal-clear cornflower blue.

Polk shaded his eyes. They strained to peer at the road's vanishing point. Then Aurora saw it: a black speck in the sky, circling above the road. She strained her ears and heard the faint cry of crows.

"They're guarding the road."

"That could be anything," said Polk. But he took a step back.

"They're guarding the road. It's what I'd do."

"So ... what?"

Aurora watched the distant crows.  "Let's follow the creek."

#

They followed the muddy bank. The sun rose higher and the shadows disappeared. Their pace slowed. Aurora pulled off her cap and wiped the sweat from her forehead.

In the silence, her mind tumbled. Why me, she thought. What do they want with me?

"You okay?" Polk's voice derailed her train of thought.

"What?"

"You're not watching where you're going." He was holding her by the elbow, guiding her away from the stream.

She sighed. "Why are they chasing me, Polk?"

"Um... Maybe you shouldn't think about that too hard. Maybe focus on walking through this heat instead?"

"But, it makes no sense." Aurora looked back. "Maybe I should go back and ask them."

"Yeah. Maybe they can help you pick out a good fabric for your sacrificial robe."

"Maybe if it's something I could give them, they'd stop--"

Matron's words echoed in her head. You can't let him take you, girl! It'll be disaster if he does! Whatever it was they wanted, it was no small thing.

"But why me?" She grimaced at the whine she heard in her voice. "I mean, trying to grab me in my dreams? Attacking us with crows and plastic bags?"

Polk nodded. "It seems a lot just to grab some young waitress, especially when there are plenty of prettier ones out there-- ow!"

He staggered back from her punch to his shoulder and planted his foot in the stream. He shook it out. "Great. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

He walked on with a step, shake-water-off, step, shake-water-off, step. Aurora stifled a laugh.

Polk's right, though, she thought. A fifteen -- almost sixteen -- year old waitress in some remote corner of Saskatchewan? It was ludicrous. What's so special about me--

She stopped in her tracks. Oh, yeah. The dream thing.

Polk stopped and turned back. "Aurora?"

The dream thing. That had to be it. It was the only thing that marks me off as special. But how could they know? I hadn't told anyone about my abilities, not outright. And the one person who'd experienced them -- she flinched at the memory -- was hardly in any condition to tell anyone.

But Mom knew.

"Get stuck in the mud?" Polk grinned. "Hey, are you okay?"

She drew her breath in. Her hands clenched into fists. "Damn it!" she yelled. Starlings burst out of the flowers and into the sky.

Polk whirled, looking for attackers rushing towards them. "I thought we were supposed to be in hiding!"

Aurora stomped her feet. "She knew! My mom knew! She shoved me here; she played with my memory to keep me 'safe.' She knew I was special enough that somebody wanted me, and she damn well never told me!"

Polk let the canvas bag slip from his shoulders. "Aurora, calm down."

She balled her hands into fists. She clenched her jaw shut and took a cleansing breath.

Then her mind caught up to her mouth. She looked up at Polk, horrified. She'd been reckless.

"Aurora? What's wrong?" His sardonic smile was gone.

But this was Polk. Her best friend in Cooper's Corners. The only person who'd made the place bearable. And he'd walked with her this far.

"I know why they're after me, Polk," she said. "I've never told anybody this before, but I can see people's dreams."

There was a long moment of silence. Polk stared at her. Aurora stared back, waiting. She tried again. "I mean, I can see what people are dreaming when I look them in the eye."

His eyes flickered aside, but he still said nothing.

"Have you gotten through your wheatfield yet?"

"Oh, crap!" He lunged away from her, covering his eyes. "Does privacy mean nothing to you?"

"I can't help it!" she yelled. "I can't control it. It just happens."

He lowered his hand and looked at her warily. "Oh." Then, more seriously, "Oh! That can not be fun."

She threw up her hands. "Tell me about it. For the past three years, I've wanted to punch Jake Ransom's face in. That's what I like about your dreams, Polk: I don't feel the need to take a shower after."

He straightened up, but still kept his gaze just out of eye contact. "Oh... Okay. I'll take that as a compliment. I think. How long have you... been able to do this?"

"Since my first period."

He ducked his head. "Too much information!"

"Hey, you asked!"

He shook his head, looking stunned. "So, you can see people's dreams. That's... neat, I guess." He caught her look. "Or, maybe not. How do you know that's why they're after you?"

"They're attacking me in dreams, and I can read dreams, that isn't enough of a connection?" She continued more quietly. "My mom knew something. She knew that people were after me, and she sent me here, to live with Aunt Matron."

"I always thought you were an orphan."

"I might as well be. She played with my memories to keep me here. Tried to make me forget my life in Winnipeg." She clenched her fists. "Polk, this is important. Tell me how you know me. How long have you known me?"

"Uh..." Polk opened his mouth, then closed it. "Three years. Aurora, this is too weird for me. Do we really have to talk about this out here--?"

"Three years?" Aurora echoed. "Not twelve or fifteen? I look at you and I say to myself, this is a boy I grew up with; from the moment we got up and toddled around. This is a boy I went to kindergarten with. But only the last three years have been real."

She realized, with a sudden jerk of her heart, that she felt robbed to be losing those memories of Polk.

"You came... to live with us... three years ago," said Polk at last, thinking hard and choosing his words with care. "Matron told me you were an orphan and that we were taking you in. She told me not to talk about your mother... because it was too painful for you."

"Or it could have brought the memories back." She looked up at him, marvelling that, for three years, this secret hadn't slipped out. Polk hadn't once said something like, 'Hey, you remember when you came to Cooper's Corners, three years ago?'

"Maybe they played with your memories too," she said.

"You'd think I'd remember that."

She shook her head. His grin faded.

"That's got to be it," she said. "It's the only thing that makes me special. They want me because I can see into people's dreams."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Matron did everything she could to make sure I didn't find out. Maybe this person in Saskatoon can tell me." She set her teeth. "I can't believe my Mom wouldn't tell me!"

"Okay," said Polk. "My next big question: what exactly can we do with this information out here where we are?"

Aurora looked around, at the meandering strip of mud that passed for a creek, at the sea of brush and flowers that stretched to the horizon, at the blue dome of the sky. Her shoulders sagged. "Nothing. Let's keep going." She pushed past Polk.

He shrugged on the canvas bag and fell into step beside her, but she hardly noticed him.

Mom knew about me. The words rolled around in her head. She knew.

#

The sun rose too high for the creek's shallow banks to provide any shade. They trudged on. Aurora noticed they were approaching a low ridge running along the northeastern horizon. As they rounded a bend in the stream, they saw that the ridge crossed the creek, with a bridge that looked like a platform on stilts.

Aurora squinted at it. "That's too small to be a road bridge."

"Maybe it's a cattle crossing or something," said Polk.

There were no farmhouses in sight. The only structures were the bridge, the ridge (which didn't look natural), and a line of power poles stretching into the distance.

Polk staggered.

Aurora frowned at him. "You wait here. I'll take a look around."

Leaving Polk puffing beside the creek, Aurora clawed her way up the embankment and poked her head above the bridge, feeling like a prairie dog peering out from its den. Her vision was blocked by a low wall of iron. She craned her head higher and saw that the low wall was actually a rail. Two ribbons of rusted steel curved away in either direction, drawing together as they reached the vanishing point.

"Huh," she said and ducked down.

"It's a rail line," she called to Polk. "And it's heading south."

Polk looked up from where he sat slumped on the bank. "So?"

She looked up and down the run of the creek. "The creek was heading east," she said, "and now it's heading north-east. Saskatoon's south, so we're moving away from where we want to go." Then she focused on Polk. "Are you okay?"

He looked up at her, breathing heavily. "Me? I'm fine! Fine. So, east or south?"

Sweat cut lines in the dust on his face. His white t-shirt was grey and soggy. Aurora's frown deepened as she came down the embankment. "You want me to carry the bag?"

"What?" He straightened up sharply. "No, I can handle it. Come on! Let's keep moving."

"I'd like some water, please."

Polk sagged with relief and slipped the cloth straps off his shoulders. He rummaged through the sack and brought out two bottles. He handed her one and twisted the cap off the other.

"Hey." She caught him with the bottle halfway to his mouth. "Drink slowly. Don't choke yourself."

They both drank. Then stood looking at each other, casting tempted glances at the sack full of water, but decided to save it for later. Polk hefted the straps over his shoulders.

"You want me to carry that?" asked Aurora. "It's been a couple of hours."

"I'm fine. I'm here to help, you know." He grinned at her. "I swore to protect you."

Aurora rolled her eyes.

"I did! Placed my hand on the Good Book and everything! Anybody who comes after you has to get through me first. I also carry your bags."

"C'mon Polk, it's been hours. I should take a turn too."

"I said, I'm okay!" He slipped and fell forward. One of the cans rolled out of the bag and thwacked him in the back of his head. "Ow!"

Aurora scrambled over and caught the bag before more of its contents could spill onto Polk. He looked up at her, dazed. "Okay," he said. "You can carry it a bit."

They followed the tracks south. The rails were rusted, but the gravel was well-groomed. Walking from tie to tie, they picked up the pace. Aurora puffed with the canvas sack on her back. How had Polk managed to carry this the entire morning? Sometimes, it felt as though she could point her toes, and it would drive her into the ground like a nail.

She let her hands drop to her sides. Her left hand brushed against Polk's. Their hands jerked apart as though they'd felt a shock. On they plodded. The ribbons of iron shimmered, making Aurora think of water. Again, her hand brushed Polk's. This time they didn't pull away. After a moment, she took his hand. Polk gave it a squeeze. They brought their heads down and pushed forward.

The afternoon disappeared into a haze of heat.

As the sun set, and they ambled around a curve on the rail embankment, the land ahead dropped away. They looked out on rolling scrublands full of grass and flowers. Aurora groaned at the sight of mile after mile of unpaved ground. Damn nature!

But as she took a few more steps, and more of the landscape pulled into view, her breath caught.

At first sh,e thought it was another mirage. But as she walked, she could see this was no mirage. The sun glittered on a sparkling mirror, a slough of water that stretched out in a circle a hundred metres wide, reflecting so brightly that they had to shield their eyes.

Aurora stopped. Polk stopped too. They stood there, breathing hard, transfixed by the glittering water, but too tired to move or speak.

"Ooo, that's sooo tempting," Aurora moaned at last.

"Yeah," said Polk.

She looked up at him. "Want a swim?"

He thought about it. "Aren't we supposed to be on the run?"

They looked at the slough and then at each other. Sweat beaded on their faces and trickled down their necks. Aurora's t-shirt was stained and sticking to her. And it had been eight hours since they'd seen anything resembling a crow.

She shrugged off the canvas bag and dropped it beside the rails. Polk broke into a grin. "Last one in is a rotten egg!"

Aurora tripped him, sending him sprawling on the embankment. She dashed for the pond, kicking off her shoes, jumping out of her jeans, and stripping down to her underwear. She danced out of her socks just in time to splash into the water. Polk stomped after her but stopped when he saw her jeans fly past him and land in the grass.

Aurora surfaced, gasping, delighting at the prickle of goosebumps. She looked around and saw Polk on the bank, staring at her with his mouth open.

"What?" she called. "Aren't you coming in?"

"You--" He gestured at her shirt and jeans lying on the bank.

"Don't be silly! I'm wearing underwear." But to her horror, she felt herself beginning to blush.

"But..." He waved his hands.

"Well, I'm sorry!" She walked backwards deeper into the water until she was a head bobbing on top of its own reflection. "In our mad dash to escape, I somehow forgot to pack our swimsuits. Look, it's not like my underwear shows anything more. At least this way, you don't have to look the other way while I change into a bikini. Now, are you coming in, or what?"

Polk hesitated. Then he whooped and pulled off his pants, shoes and shirt. Aurora laughed. Polk dove into the water with a huge splash.

They swam lengths. Aurora took a few minutes to wash the mud, sweat and abandoned bathroom smell from her jeans and t-shirt, spreading them out to dry on the flowers. They spent the next half hour splashing each other, playing tag, before finally collapsing by the water's edge, gazing up at the sky as the water lapped around them.

"We needed that," said Aurora at last.

"Yeah. We did." Polk sat up, sloshing water over her. "Let's eat."

She struggled to sit up. "Give me a hand here."

He clasped her hand. "Sure. Come on." He hauled her to her feet.

They slipped on the muddy bottom. Aurora teetered, her free arm cartwheeling. Polk staggered but caught her, one hand clasped around her side. Aurora's breath caught. She'd never realized just how strong he was. They stood a moment, staring at each other, their faces dangerously close.

She saw Polk's gaze run quickly up and down her body, then plant itself at a safe spot somewhere by her right ear. His cheeks glowed red. To her disgust, she was blushing furiously too.

Polk coughed. "Um..."

"Don't let go yet!" she snapped. She was still balanced precariously on one foot, and Polk was taking her weight. She staggered fully upright. Then she cleared her throat, and nodded curtly. "You can let go now. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

They turned their backs on each other and ran for their clothes.

Aurora felt more comfortable once she'd pulled on her jeans and shirt. They were stained and still a bit damp, but smelled okay. They worked together to sort out the canvas sack and hand each other water bottles. Sitting on the embankment below the tracks, they had a dinner of cold beans. The sun set. The sky darkened, and the stars came out.

"So, I guess we're stopping here for the night?" Aurora rubbed the knots out of her legs.

"You want to wander around in the dark? Besides, we need our sleep."

"Yeah." Aurora lay back and looked up at the sky again, and was startled at the number of stars she saw. The sky hardly had room enough for them all. "Wow," she breathed. "There really is a Milky Way."

She had spent almost three years in Cooper's Corners, but with a lifetime of experience, she had already seen all the stars and grown tired of them. Now she looked up at them with the eyes of a city girl who hadn't realized that the sky had depth. The universe was a lot bigger than she'd ever thought it could be.

"What are we going to do, Polk?" she said at last.

He rolled over in the dark and clasped her hand. "Don't worry--"

"I'm not talking about this chase. I'm talking about after."

"Can't we just go back... to Matron?"

"No," said Aurora. "Not after keeping me here with my fake memories."

"Find your mother, maybe?"

"If I can." But she shook her head. "Mom abandoned me. I lived the rest of my life in a lie. Like it or not, I'm on my own." She rolled away from him and rested her head on her arm. "There's no going back. The only way forward is forward."

They lay in silence as the twilight deepened. Finally, Aurora rolled back over and looked at Polk. "Do you have any dreams?"

"Only when I'm dreaming."

"You're always dreaming," said Aurora.

He frowned at her.

"Seriously. Everybody dreams in the daytime, and not just in daydreams. You only notice your dreams when you're asleep and your mind has nothing else to do. But the part of the mind that does the dreaming doesn't shut down. Everybody dreams, all the time."

Polk stared at her, eyebrows raised.

"Trust me," she said. "I know."

He gave her a lopsided grin. "If you say so."

He lingered on the grin, and she couldn't help blushing. The grassy embankment was bigger than all the beds in the world, but the thought of sharing it with him still gave her a strange thrill.

In her mind's eye, she slapped herself.

The moon rose. After a while, Aurora heard Polk snoring. She waited a moment longer, then scooched over on her back until her elbow touched his arm. She settled back with a contented sigh.

The wind brushes the wheat, rippling the tassels like surf.

Aurora blinked up at the sky. What had just happened?

She'd seen a dream. She'd seen Polk's dream, but she hadn't looked him in the eye.

Then she realized: this wasn't a dream at the back of his mind. This was what he was dreaming, right now. She'd picked it up like a radio.

She couldn't do that, could she?

Then again, until now, I'd never slept next to anyone in my life. Who knows what the effect could be?

The images swept over her again.

His feet scrunches on the gravel. His breathing catches. Polk reaches out to part the first stalks of wheat.

Aurora sat up, her chest heaving. She looked at Polk's back, wondering if she should move away. She didn't want to leave him, but this was... overwhelming and far more intimate than she'd ever expected.

Was this her future, when she was finally old enough to have serious relationships, to be battered by her lovers' dreams?

But as she hesitated, the images swept through her a third time, and she lost touch with the ground.

Polk walks through the wheat, his heart beating faster. He doesn't notice Aurora standing beside the path, staring at him as he passes.

Wait a minute, she thinks. She looks down at herself, at her arms. She pinches herself and raises a welt.

"What the hell?" she says.

Suddenly, Polk stands behind her. "What are you doing here?"

She whirls around. "I'm... sorry. I read dreams, remember?"

He's breathing heavily. His cheeks are red. "A little privacy, please?"

"I'll just go." She stumbles towards Matron's diner. The gravel scrunches underfoot.

"No!" Polk shouts. "Not that way!"

She opens the door, then stops, teetering, staring down into a pit.

The air fills with the screech of crows.

"Aurora!" Polk shouts, running to her, but too late. Aurora falls.

Sights and sounds bombard her. Memories.

...Polk slams through the diner door and tosses his schoolbooks aside. He turns to the stairs leading up to his room but stops to find Matron standing there.

"I've moved your stuff down here," she says.

He groans. "Aw, Matron!"

"She's here."

He stops mid-groan and looks into the living room. Aurora sits slouched on the battered couch, in her jeans and denim jacket. Her eyes are glazed, and she is flipping endlessly through the television channels on her remote.

"Go in and say 'hi'," says Matron.

Polk stares at Aurora. He braces himself and then walks into the living room.

She takes no notice of him. He settles in beside her and can't stop staring. She gives him the briefest glance.

"Um... hi," he says.

"Hi," she replies blandly and flicks to the next channel.

He looks at her another moment longer, then smiles. He settles back into the sofa and watches television...

...The air rushes past Aurora as she falls...

..."Swear it!" Matron shouts. "Lives count on you, boy. Don't let your parents down."

"But I don't want to," Polk moans. "I don't know her. I don't know who she is. Why should I care?"

Matron stands up. She says nothing. But Polk looks at her, then takes a breath. "I swear to protect her. I swear..."

...Aurora sinks further, lower...

...Matron is looking sad. Polk comes in and shows her the picture he's drawn, of her, cooking eggs on the grill. She smiles, then, and ruffles his hair...

...Down she falls...

..."Momma? Dadda?" Polk sobs.

Matron picks Polk up and hugs him to her shoulder. Her own shoulders quake. "I'm sorry, son. I'm so sorry!"...

...Further...

..."It'll be nice to have a friend to play with, won't it?" says his mother.

Polk looks up from the toy train engine he's playing with. He grins.

"I don't think he's figured it out," says his father.

They sit in the corner of the hospital waiting room, near the box of toys. Other figures sit and read magazines, dimming the sunlight that shines through the window.

"Would they be related?" asks his mother.

"Distantly," said his father. "At most cousins, I think. I don't understand human family connections."

There is a commotion at the end of the corridor. The people in the waiting room look up, then stand up.

The dark man bursts in. Aurora gasps to see him. His eyes shine. "They say her water's broke. The baby is coming. I'm going to be a dad."

He grins. He looks down and sees Polk, and picks him up. "I'm going be a dad!"

"You be da," Polk mimics.

The dark man swings Polk around, carrying him across the hospital waiting room while Polk made engine noises.

The dark man laughs. And Polk is laughing too. Laughing like a baby...

...Aurora grunts as she hits bottom--

Polk muttered in his sleep and rolled away, breaking the connection. Aurora was up on one elbow on the stubbled ground, her breathing ragged. She scrambled up and backed away from him, staring at his back and the moon shadow it cast.

Around her, the wind blew the smell of cold grass and loneliness.

She looked around. The land rolled away in moonlight. It was rugged, but at least she could see her way. Her legs were sore, but not so much she couldn't walk. And she didn't need to sleep. An hour or two was all she needed to make sure that he never found her. And then she could continue south to Saskatoon.

She picked up the bag of waterbottles, the cans and the can opener, taking care not to let the cans clunk together. After a moment's hesitation, she left two bottles behind Polk's back.

She cast one more glance at Polk's sleeping form.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. Then she turned away and set out away from the rail embankment, under the starry sky.

Forward to Chapter Six ->>

<<- Back to Chapter Three

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.

<<- Back to Chapter Two.

The Dream King's Daughter - Chapter Three: Past the Hundredth Meridian

The first dream that Aurora read belonged to her best friend, Anne.

It was at school, sixth grade, and Aurora was just hanging up her new spring jacket. Standing back to appreciate the dark denim, she bumped into Anne.

Anne caught her arm. "Hey! Watch it!" But not unkindly. "Nice jacket."

"Thanks!" Aurora beamed. "Mom bought it for me on the weekend. We went out to that new place out by the power centre. Isn't it cool?"

"Yeah, I saw you wearing it at the mall yesterday," said Anne.

"Oh," said Aurora. "Why didn't you say hello?"

"I was just heading out," said Anne quickly. She shrugged off her brown polyester coat and tossed it onto a hook. It flopped on the floor instead. Anne sighed and bent to pick it up.

As she placed it back on its hook, a slab of a boy shouldered her aside. He threw her ragged brown coat on the floor.

"Hey!" Anne shouted. She caught her breath when she saw who she was talking to. Aurora started forward, then froze. Roger had already won two fights that the teachers knew about, and more that they didn't. If that wasn't enough, Roger's friend and henchman, Jack, was right behind him.

Roger sneered. "Get your own hook." He hung his parka from the disputed hook with sausage-like fingers.

Anne's breathing quickened. "C'mon, there's a free hook right over there!" She reached for her coat.

Roger pushed her back. "Your trashy old Goodwill coat belongs in the garbage, anyway." He leered at them. "Unless you wanna make something of it."

There was an adult throat-clearing. Miss Daultry leaned in from the classroom. "Is there a problem here?"

Aurora opened her mouth, but Roger caught her eye. He and Jack stuck their hands in their pockets and stood, waiting.

Anne glared at the floor. "No, Miss Daultry. Everything's okay."

The teacher frowned over her glasses, then turned away. Grinning, Roger and Jack followed her out of the coatroom into the classroom. Anne thumped the wall.

"It's okay," said Aurora. "Share my hook."

Anne forced a smile. "Thanks," she said. And without meaning to, Aurora looked into her friend's brown eyes.

Anne snatches Aurora's denim jacket and runs across the classroom, laughing, impervious to Aurora's pleas. She flings it out the window into a lake that has materialized in place of the schoolyard.

Aurora shook her head and looked around. Her jacket was still on its hook, and the classroom windows were closed. Anne had turned away and was slinking out of the cloakroom to take her seat as Miss Daultry called the class to order.

"Aurora," Miss Daultry called. "Won't you grace us with your presence?"

The rest of the class giggled, but Aurora was too distracted to be embarrassed as she slouched out of the cloakroom to take her seat beside her friend.

Aurora read her second dream before recess. As the rest of the class filed out, Miss Daultry pulled her aside. "Is anything the matter, Aurora? You've been distracted all morning."

Aurora kept her gaze on the lower half of the teacher's face. "Nothing's wrong, Miss Daultry."

"You're sure?" Her teacher gave her an encouraging smile. "If anything is the matter, you can always talk to me."

Aurora looked into Miss Daultry's eyes.

Miss Daultry kicks back at her desk and pulls out a good book. Around her, the classroom stands empty, the windows white with snow. School is cancelled. No children today. Miss Daultry inspects a box of chocolates, picks one, and settles in to read.

Aurora dropped her gaze to the floor. "I'm sure. Nothing's the matter. Can I go?"

Miss Daultry's eyes narrowed a moment. Then she patted Aurora on the shoulder. "Okay. Get going."

At recess, Aurora played hide-and-seek and agreed to be 'it'. As the other kids ran away, Aurora hunted them down methodically, pouncing on each boy or girl and looking them in the eye. Dreams flooded her.

...I did it! I scored the winning goal!...

...I get to meet Santa! And they told me he wasn't real!...

Jack glared at Aurora. "What are you smiling at?"

"Nothing." Aurora moved on.

...Yes! I just punched Roger's face in!...

...No. The planes are back. The sirens are wailing. The bombs are falling again...

Albijana grimaced as Aurora stared at her for a moment too long. "Stop staring, Aurora! You're weird!" She pushed past Aurora and ran for home base.

Finally, at the end of the day, Aurora fumbled on her coat in the cloakroom, lost in thought.

"Hey," said Anne. Aurora jumped.

"You okay?" asked Anne as she yanked on her too-small, salt-stained, balding fur-lined boots. "You've been quiet all day."

"Why do you want to throw my coat into a lake?" said Aurora.

Anne froze. She looked up and laughed nervously. "What are you talking--"

Aurora looked into Anne's eyes.

Anne laughs. Aurora's denim jacket sails out the window and lands with a splash before sinking without a trace. Aurora sobs, standing in Anne's ratty clothes.

Aurora stepped back. "You're jealous!"

Anne gaped at her. "No-- what-- Aurora!"

"You want to grab my jacket and toss it into a lake. You hate that I have a new jacket, and you're in an old one!"

Anne gasped. "How did you--" Then her eyes flashed. "You read my diary!"

Aurora flinched. "I didn't! I--" She froze. How else could she explain how she knew? But she didn't feel like she should be the one to be ashamed, here. "It doesn't matter. You've been jealous the whole time we've been together, thinking all those things behind my back."

"You think I meant it?" Anne drew a shaky breath. "Yeah, sure, I wanted the things you had, but that didn't mean I didn't like you. It was just a dream. I still liked you. Until now! You traitor!"

Anne stormed out of the cloakroom. She came storming back to pick up her remaining boot and stormed out again. This time, she was choking back sobs.

Aurora watched her go, blinking back her own tears.

#

The rain stopped a few miles down the road, but black clouds loomed in the rear-view mirror. Aurora drove through the sunset and into the night. She passed a sign which said "SASKATOON: 390 KM". Soon, the only sound was the hum of the engine as her headlights turned the road into a small pool in the middle of a rolling void. More signposts appeared, slowly counting down the distance. Eventually, she ignored them and focused on the black ribbon ahead of her. She ignored the stars, ignored the horizon as it began to brighten. Finally, as she topped a hill and drove into sunshine, she had to blink.

She sobbed and hated herself for it.

Wiping her nose on her sleeve while still gripping the wheel, Aurora tried not to remember Matron standing with her gun raised as the feathery clouds descended. Crying was what little kids did. She was a teenager. On her own. In a car she could barely drive, fleeing from some monster who could attack in dreams and in the waking world at the same time. Heading southeast to Saskatoon to meet... who? There was no one she could turn to--

Someone breathed behind her. There was a crunch of vinyl. A hand clasped her shoulder. "Hey--"

Aurora screamed.

From the back seat, Polk screamed.

"What are you doing here?" Aurora shouted.

He looked past her, and his eyes widened. "Watch the road!"

She turned around, squeaked, and twisted the wheel. The car swerved, skidded on the edge of the ditch, then eased back onto the road. Aurora took a deep breath. "What are you doing here?" She grabbed a quick look back before facing the road ahead.

"I needed a nap," he said. "I snuck out to Matron's car, lay down and fell asleep. She never thinks to look for me here. Have I been asleep long?"

Aurora kept her eyes forward. Before them, on their left, the sun climbed further up the sky. "A while."

Polk squirmed over the top of the passenger seat and slithered down beside her. He gave her a goofy grin. Then he frowned. "Are you old enough to drive?"

"Give me a break! I'm almost sixteen! I've got a learner's permit."

Polk raised his eyebrows.

"Okay, I could get my learner's permit, if I'd spent the time to actually, you know, get one. But I'm old enough to drive!"

"Okay." Polk settled into his seat. He shielded his eyes against the sun, then folded down the sunshield. The grogginess in his gaze disappeared, as though a sudden cold wind had cleared his mind. He blinked into the sunshine. "Wait a minute. Is that... sunrise?"

"Yes."

"I slept the night?"

"Yes."

"Have we been driving all night?"

"Yes."

"Matron's back at the diner, right?"

Aurora choked, then swallowed. "Y-yes," she said at last. She didn't add, 'I hope so.'

Polk looked from her to the road ahead and back again.

"We've been driving all night?" he said again.

"Yes."

"Why were we driving all night?"

Aurora didn't answer.

"Does Matron know you took her car?"

She nodded.

"Aurora?"

"Yes?"

"What's going on?"

She thumped the wheel with her forehead. The car swerved. "Just shut up! Shut up! Shut the hell up!"

Polk clutched the armrest. He hurriedly did up his seat belt. "Aurora, calm down."

"Calm?" Aurora rounded on him. Polk cringed in his seat, but she didn't care. "Calm? How do you expect me to be calm? I saw the whole village disappear before my eyes! Crows talked to me! Then I found it was just a dream, but I woke up into a storm and the crows were still there and they attacked Matron! She could be dead for all we know, and you expect me to be calm? I can't be calm! I'm exhausted and scared and confused and I don't know what to do except drive! So that's what I'm doing! Okay?"

"Aurora," Polk said softly. "Stop the car."

"What?"

"Just... pull over and stop the car." He sounded ultra-calm. "Please?"

They pulled onto the shoulder. The car tilted, perched at the edge of the ditch. When they were stopped, Polk reached over and moved the gearshift to park. Aurora stared at the wheel.

Polk gripped the door handle, then turned to her. "Kill the engine. Let's stretch our legs."

"What for?"

He gave her a smile. "Trust me." He opened the door and slid out, disappearing into the ditch with a yelp. He popped up seconds later, grinned at her, and trudged to the back of the car.

Aurora made to kill the engine, then realized that she couldn't uncurl her fingers from the steering wheel. She pulled back hard until her fingers slipped from the vinyl and came away, curled into claws. She flattened them on her lap and flexed them, wincing as they cramped. She shook them to get some life back into them.

She turned off the ignition and left the car keys on the seat as she hauled herself outside. She came around back, to where Polk leaned against the trunk. They stood on the broken paved shoulder, grassy where it met the drainage ditch. Aurora stared out at the rippling fields. A chill wind, left over from the night, touched her cheeks and plucked at her hair.

Polk just stood there. She looked at him. "You waiting for something?"

He waved a hand at the fields of grass and flower stretching on forever. "Just take a minute. Breathe. Talk. Scream. Cry. Whatever comes to you. You'll know what to do. You just need to let it out. It's safer to do it out here instead of behind the wheel."

"When did you get all Zen?"

He gave her a teasing smile. "Hey, I have hidden depths."

She turned and walked away. Asphalt crunched as she trudged along the shoulder up a low rise. When she reached the top, she looked around. The fields dipped away, a sea of yellow-green waves breaking against posts and barbed wire fences. The wind made a sound like surf. Blackbirds tweedled, but there were no crows.

You know what to do, she thought. Just let it out.

She took a deep breath and howled.

Her voice rang in her ears, powered by all the rage and confusion and fear that had built up over the past day and a half. She screamed one long note that bent her over as the air left her lungs. The scream stopped. She straightened up, pulling in air, arching her back.

"Mom! Where are you?" she hollered. "How could you leave me like this? How could you?"

She hollered until she was bent almost double again, breathing heavily, her hands on her knees. Quiet again. The wind rushed through the tassels like waves on the ocean. The only other sound was Polk scuffing the pavement with his toe.

Aurora straightened up. Her cheeks were wet, but she wiped them dry on her sleeve and cleared her nose with a sniff. She stood a moment, drinking in the isolation, the endless blue sky, the yellow fields, and brought her breathing under control. Cleansing breath in. Stressed air out. Cleansing breath in. Hold it. Then let it out.

She set her jaw. There were no answers blowing in the wind. She was on her own, so she wasn't going to waste her time curled up in a ball and weeping.

She strode back to the car. Polk stood leaning on it. She leaned beside him and looked ahead. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. So, what's going on?"

She looked away in disgust. "You wouldn't believe me."

He grinned. "You have the car. You have the keys, and it's a long walk back to Matron's place. I don't think it would be wise for me to disbelieve you."

She just looked at him. His grin vanished. "What happened?"

Aurora's hands clenched into fists. She banged the trunk. How could she even begin to explain? But she had to tell someone.

"I--" She stopped, then started again. "I had a dream. I dreamt that we were working the diner like we always do, and the dinner crowd came in, but they started to disappear one by one. Everyone I knew in Cooper's Corners vanished, leaving me out in the open, all alone when -- something -- came for me."

He turned to her, his expression sympathetic. "That's a horrible nightmare, but--"

"Polk, I didn't dream that last night, or the night before. I dreamt it yesterday afternoon!"

"That's impossible."

"No. It happened. Polk, what did I do yesterday? Did I talk to you after the dinner crowd came in? What?"

"No." He shrugged. "You took orders, served them up. You were a little distant, though. Like you were sleepwalk--" He stopped and stared at her, eyes wide. "You're serious? You were asleep then?"

"Yes."

"You didn't spill a drop of coffee--"

"That's not important! Polk, it wasn't normal. Something attacked me. And in my dream, I walked out to the field behind the diner. That's when Matron found me and woke me up. Except when I woke up, the dream was still around me."

He straightened up. "What do you mean?"

"There was a storm in my dream," said Aurora. "And when I woke up, it was all around me. I saw twisting clouds, and I heard windows breaking."

"My God. Was everybody okay?"

"I don't know. Matron made me get in her car and go. She said the storm would follow me, and everybody else would be safe. Then the crows attacked her, and--"

The colour drained from Polk's face. "Is... she okay?"

Aurora drew a shaky breath. "I don't know."

They stood in silence on either side of the parked car, staring at each other. "This is silly," said Polk. "Running away because of some dream you had. If Matron's hurt, or if the town-- We should go back. It's not like the storm's actually following--"

A rumble echoed across the fields, like barrels rolling across a stage. Aurora and Polk looked north, back the way they'd come. The sky was still blue, but the horizon was dark, and growing darker.

They looked back at each other. The breeze plucked at their hair.

"So, where do we go?" said Polk at last.

"South," said Aurora.

"Why south?"

"That's the way the car's facing."

"Fair enough." Polk straightened up and came around to the driver's side. "Get in. My turn to drive."

Aurora leaned on the driver's side door. "I'm driving."

He pulled at the handle. "You're not legal."

She slapped his hand away. "I want to drive."

And she did, too, she realized. It was the one thing she could control in this world gone haywire. There was no way she was going to fidget in the passenger seat.

"Hey!" Polk slapped her hand back.

Aurora shoved him.

He staggered back, then came forward angrily. Aurora raised her fists.

Polk threw up his hands. "Fine! Just don't crash." He stomped around the car and pulled open the passenger door. Aurora allowed herself a small smile as she slipped behind the wheel.

"Matron gave me an address," she added as she started the engine. "Somebody in Saskatoon who could help me, she said. It's as good a place as any to run." The car drove off with a spray of gravel.

"Saskatoon," Polk murmured.

They passed a sign: SASKATOON, 300KM. Polk twisted in his seat to stare at it as it passed. He looked back at Aurora. "Something's wrong."

Aurora laughed. "You just figured that out?"

His expression didn't change. "Did you really drive all night?"

"Yeah."

"Did you stop at all?"

"No."

"Not even to go to the bathroom?"

"No."

"You tired?"

"No."

"You hungry?"

"No."

"You have to go to the bathroom?"

"... No."

"Look: did you, or did you not, drive away yesterday evening at top speed?"

Aurora flushed, thinking of how she'd abandoned Matron. "What are you getting at?"

"You picked the road to Saskatoon, right? You just drove straight?"

"Yes!" Her knuckles whitened on the wheel. "Polk--"

"Saskatchewan's big, but it's not that big, and we're not that far north. It's a five-hour drive, tops, between Cooper's Corners and Saskatoon. If you left soon after I went to sleep, and it's sunrise now, you're looking at, what, eight hours? Ten? You should be well on your way to Billings, Montana, by now."

"Polk, just be quiet and let me drive." New nerves twisted in her stomach. She didn't know how big Saskatchewan was. The lack of knowledge reminded her that she wasn't a local and that her years here had been a lie.

They passed another signpost: SASKATOON: 300KM

Aurora and Polk exchanged glances. They drove on in silence for a few minutes.

The next signpost read: SASKATOON: 300KM

Polk twisted to look at the sign as it passed. "Okay... were you... sleepdriving, maybe?"

"We're not driving in circles." Aurora scanned the dashboard.

"Except that I'd have to be sleepdriving too. How does that work?"

The next sign said: SASKATOON: 300KM

It's like in a dream, Aurora thought, where you kept running as fast as you could but didn't get anywhere. Very like a dream.

So, how do I wake myself up?

She glanced at her wrist, then gave it a quick pinch. She looked at the road ahead. Nothing happened. She pinched harder. She looked ahead. The sign appeared on the horizon again. Then she took a deep breath and put all of her strength into her thumb and forefinger.

"Ow!"

The world shuddered.

The car swerved. Where the road had been straight, now they were rushing headlong towards a curve. The sun was higher in the sky. They passed an abandoned farmhouse that they hadn't seen before.

"What the hell?" said Polk.

"We're out of the dream," said Aurora. "Uh... I think."

"How can you tell?"

Another sign appeared over the crest of a hill. Polk and Aurora held their breath.

SASKATOON: 290KM

"Okay," said Polk. "Let's find someplace to stop and get some breakfast."

"What?" Aurora gaped at him. "After all that, you want to stop?"

"Look, we can't just drive on without stopping. We need to eat. And if we don't want to stink up Matron's car, we'll need to use the bathroom."

"If you need to go to the bathroom so bad, you can go in the bushes. You can forget about food. I left my purse back at Matron's. There's no money."

"I got money."

She glanced at him. "How much?"

He looked up at the ceiling, calculating. "About a thousand dollars."

"What?!" The car swerved.

"Would you please get a handle on your reactions?" said Polk tightly. "I swear, someone says boo, and we'll end up upside-down in the ditch."

"Sorry," said Aurora crossly. "But, how--"

He shrugged. "It just sort of... accumulated. The nearest bank was fifty miles away, after all. Though I think we may have passed it sometime in the night."

She looked ahead. "I see."

"So, can we stop?"

"I said I wasn't hungry!"

"And I called you a liar. Besides, we have to stop: the empty tank alert just came on."

Aurora looked at the dashboard. A red gas tank icon shone back at her. She swore under her breath.

They passed a signpost for the next small town, but Aurora didn't catch its name.

#

Minutes later, they crested a hill and Aurora looked down on a settlement consisting of a single shuttered house and a general store. The store was built of wood and painted red. Gas pumps squatted on the gravel driveway. In the distance, a grain tower stood guarded by rail cars.

"Ah, civilization," Polk breathed.

"Huh," said Aurora. There was something about this that didn't feel right. But she caught sight of the low gas indicator again and applied the brakes. They coasted off the road and stopped in front of the gas pumps. They had dials for numbers instead of a digital display. Aurora wondered if she should look for a hand crank.

A tall, lanky figure unfolded himself from a battered wooden chair. He stood by the front door of the general store and watched without any sign of surprise as they pulled up. When Aurora cut the engine and got out, she took a good look at him.

He wore a dark brown suit jacket over a white T-shirt, khaki pants, and black leather shoes. His brown hair was thinning on top, and he had a small brown goatee. His moustache had been manicured into two brown lines below his nose, with curled-up ends. He gave them a thin-lipped smile, then threw his arms wide.

"Customers!" he cried. "Welcome to my store!"

Aurora stopped in her tracks. Nobody greeted customers this way unless they were desperate for business. And nobody was this desperate for business unless they hadn't had any for weeks if not years.

The store building looked sturdy but old. The paint had faded, and sun-bleached boxes and other bric-a-brac were stacked along the foundation. In the nearby fields, two dusty plastic bags rose and twisted over the barley, caught in an updraft.

Polk nodded at the store owner. "We're looking for gas and breakfast. Got either?"

"Both!" chimed the owner. "Come in! Fill up man and machine, why don't you?" He waved grandly at the front door.

Polk stepped forward, but Aurora caught his arm. "Is this guy for real?" she whispered.

"He doesn't have to be for real," Polk murmured. "He just has to know how to cook some steak and eggs. I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry."

"I'll pump. You order."

She nodded, then turned back to the store owner. "Thanks... uh..."

"Call me Salvadore." He beckoned from the threshold. "Come, let us not dally." A battered screen door slammed behind him.

Aurora followed him up the front steps. As she reached for the door, a noise made her freeze. It sounded like a baby rattle. She shrugged, yanked open the gap-riddled screen door, and entered.

The shop bell jangled. Aurora gagged, caught off guard by a sudden musty smell that washed over her. But when she looked around, the smell faded. The interior of the store shone clean and bright.

There were five aisles, numbered with signs that hung down from the ceiling. The shelves were loaded with gleaming cans and shiny plastic-wrapped packages. A display of red licorice glistened beside the cash register. Along one wall, near the entrance to the washrooms, was an ice cream stand and a soda jerk. There was a grill nearby, warm and freshly oiled, and Aurora was hit with a memory of Matron's diner. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

Sniffing the air again, all she could smell was fresh produce--apples, lettuce--and cleaning fluid. Lots of it.

"So, what shall I get you?" Salvadore tied a spotless white apron around his waist and stood behind the counter.

"Steak and eggs for Polk," said Aurora. "Sausage and eggs for me, please."

"How do you like your eggs?"

"Scrambled for Polk, mine, over easy. We'll have toast, too."

Salvadore got two sausage rounds and a small steak from the refrigerator and set them on the grill to sizzle. Then he grabbed four eggs, tossing each in the air before catching them and cracking them on the side of the grill.

Showy. Aurora rolled her eyes. Matron never showed off with the customers' meals. And he's put on the eggs too quickly. They'd be done and cooling well before the steak was ready. No wonder he's starved for customers.

As the food cooked, Salvadore turned to her. "And how about a drink? An ice cream soda, perhaps?"

Aurora had been about to order coffee, but a soda sounded good. "Yeah, sure."

"One for you and one for your boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend."

"So, one soda or two?"

"One. Polk can order whatever he wants."

"One soda. Two straws?" Salvadore grinned at her and cast an eye out the front door where they'd left Polk with the gas.

She glanced out the screen door and saw Polk by the car. He had the pump handle in the car's gas tank and was puzzling over the unfamiliar levers.

She turned back to Salvadore. "Whatever," she said, deliberately.

Salvadore grabbed a frosted glass from the refrigerator. He began scooping out ice cream and added a dollop of syrup. "So, what brings you out here?"

Aurora looked at him without expression, but he kept smiling as he worked away. "Driving," she said at last.

"Where to?"

None of your business. "South."

He grinned at her. "Forgive me. I don't get many customers, these days, and it does a number on the art of conversation."

"So, where have all the customers gone?"

He jerked his shoulders in a shrug. "You know how it is."

"Not really."

"It's Saskatchewan, love! Not much reason to stay, unless you like the scenery."

"So, why do you stay?"

"I like the scenery. Besides, there's still business. You two turned up, after all."

She hadn't met a single car or truck since running away from Matron's diner.

He handed over a frosty glass. "There you go! One ice cream soda, two straws." He grinned that irritating grin again. He was worse than Polk.

Aurora took the ice cream soda. "Thanks." She put both straws in her mouth and sipped.

The flavour grabbed her right away. I must have been thirstier than I thought. She grunted appreciatively and sucked hard on the straws.

"I'm glad you like it," said Salvadore. "Soda making is a lost art. I figure somebody has to keep it up. So, where are you and your not-boyfriend from?"

Her straws gurgled as she finished the ice cream soda. She set the glass down and glared at his grin. "I have to go to the bathroom." She turned her back on him.

The bathroom was all shining tile. It smelt strongly of cleaning fluid. You'd think somebody was desperate to hide all evidence of what had happened here. She sniffed the air suspiciously before stepping into the bathroom stall.

A few minutes later, as Aurora grabbed some paper towels beside the sink to dry her hands, her eyes tracked up to a corkboard display of flyers advertising local dances and on-the-side home businesses. There was even a missing child poster, with a family photograph from happier times imploring the onlooker for information--

Aurora peered closer at the photograph. The wad of towels dropped to the floor. "Mom?!"

It was her mother, standing on the diving pier stretching out into Lake Winnipeg, wearing a swimsuit and holding a beach ball, grinning. Aurora remembered that grin. She remembered taking the photograph. What was it doing here?

Aurora's hand went to her mouth. "Mom!" She choked against the sudden rise of tears. When she looked at the photograph again, the picture showed a young girl beaming at the camera, holding a doll. She looked a bit like Britney.

Aurora rubbed her eyes and looked again, but the picture didn't change.

"This is just nuts," she muttered and turned to the mirror.

Her mother stood where her reflection should be.

Aurora stifled a shriek. Keeping her eyes on the mirror, she reached out behind her, but her hand met open air. She chanced a quick look over her shoulder, but she was alone in the bathroom. She looked back at the mirror, and her mother was still there, gripping the edge of the bathroom sink, staring at her, mouth agape.

Then Aurora realized she couldn't see her own reflection in the mirror. The bathroom her mother stood in had different tiles, and there was a shower.

And she was speaking to her. Shouting at her, but making no sound. Aurora could only read her mother's lips.

Aurora?

"Mom?"

What are you doing there? How did you--

She was talking faster, now. Aurora couldn't keep up.

"Mom, I can't hear you!" Aurora put her hands to her ears and then held them out, palms up.

Her mom kept shouting, but she shortened her sentences--Aurora could tell by the way her mouth put weight on every word. Aurora peered into the mirror.

Look. Out. In. Danger.

Aurora leaned back from the mirror. She turned to look at the bathroom door. When she turned back, her mother was gone.

She bit her lip and briefly touched the mirror. Then she turned and left the bathroom, stepping carefully back into the store.

She heard the sizzle of breakfast and Salvadore scraping the grill. Focusing on the front door, she strode quickly but quietly down an aisle of shelves filled with canned vegetables.

Salvadore suddenly stood in her way. "Where are you going?"

She backed up and started down a different grocery aisle, only to have Salvadore block her path again. Her mouth went dry. How is he doing that?

"I'm just going to see how Polk's doing," she said. Then she thought: that's a good question. Where is Polk? She looked out the screen door. The car was there, attached to the gas pump with a nozzle, but Polk was nowhere to be seen. "Polk?" she shouted.

"I'm sure he'll be in presently," said Salvadore. "Have a seat; breakfast is almost ready."

"I want to stretch my legs."

Aurora tried to sidle to the left, only to have Salvadore mimic her. Her heart thumped. She had been stupid. Lulled into a false sense of security. Something had been telling her that something was wrong, but she had never realized what...

Then she realized. The sausages and eggs were sizzling on the grill, but she couldn't smell them. She could only smell cleaning fluid, and under that a hint of mildew.

Salvadore caught her frown and sniffed the air. "Hmm..."

Something rustled in his hair. Something crawled up the back of his shirt. Two spiders emerged, big as the palm of her hand. They stood on Salvadore's head and shoulder, looking at her.

A slow smile spread across his face. "Oops."

Aurora scrambled backwards and looked around wildly for a way to escape. He was between her and the door, but if she could run to one of the other aisles...

But as she turned, the world tilted beneath her feet. She grabbed one of the shelves, sending cans clattering across the floor. Her stomach lurched, and spots glittered before her eyes. She tried to haul herself upright, but nausea pushed down on her like an open hand. She turned towards the back but tripped over her own feet and fell. Salvadore caught her under the armpits.

"Most kidnappers don't think to do this." He nodded at the soda glass on the counter. "Always drug your target early. That way, they don't have time to become suspicious."

Aurora opened her mouth to say something furious, but all that came out was a gurgle. She shoved herself away, staggered, and fell into a display case. Cans rolled everywhere.

Salvadore kicked the cans aside. Gripping her shoulders, he pulled her into a sitting position and checked her over. She couldn't even hold up her head.

His goatee and smile filled her vision. "You'll live. Just take a rest; that's a good girl. Someone very important wants to talk to you."

Her vision went black.

Forward to Chapter Four ->>

<<- Back to Chapter One.

The Dream King's Daughter - Chapter Two: The Murder of Crows

Aurora burst into the kitchen and set the coffee carafe aside with a sloshing clatter. "What just happened out there?"

Silence descended in the kitchen, so far as it could. Polk and Matron stared at Aurora over the sounds of running water and sizzling bacon.

Polk glanced from Aurora to Matron, then back. His mouth quirked up. "Oh, wait, is this a game? Let me guess: you served coffee to a lot of customers? What do I win?"

"Quiet, Polk," said Matron. To Aurora, she said, "what are you talking about, dearie?"

Aurora spluttered. They had to know! They'd run out of the kitchen to help her when--

No, wait, they hadn't. They're still here. They haven't moved from their posts.

She gripped a countertop, suddenly dizzy. "This is... just... weird."

Polk reached out, but stopped about a foot away. "What is? What happened?"

"I mean," Aurora gabbled, "I fall on the floor, and suddenly I'm not on the floor. And the new customer who came in suddenly isn't--"

"Whoa, whoa," said Polk. "Wait: what new customer?"

Aurora looked up at him, eyes wide and cheeks pale. The pieces of the picture came together. She'd waited on a new customer, and suddenly, he wasn't there. Nor was his truck. She remembered collapsing, and suddenly, she hadn't. She remembered Polk and Matron rushing to her rescue, and suddenly, they weren't.

Which meant the new customer and his truck and me collapsing didn't happen.  I'm hallucinating.  I'm sleeping walking. I'm crazy. Take your pick.

And with Polk and Matron's eyes on her, full of concern, she knew this was not a decision she wanted to make in front of them.

"Um... yeah. Never mind." She picked up the carafe again. "When's the next order up?"

#

The diner was deserted by 8 p.m., and Aurora, Polk and Matron took that time to clean up the place early. Aurora worked away, wiped down the tables, hauled the garbage out back, all on automatic. Her mind was full of dreams, and the childhood memories they had unlocked. Luckily, she could think and wield a dishcloth at the same time.

They were out the door only five minutes after closing time. Polk and Matron paid only passing attention to the red-gold sunset painting the landscape. They'd seen the scenery every day of their lives. The long shadows rippling over the wheat tops, like holes opening and closing in the golden field.

Aurora stood breathing the cooling air. Then she remembered the crows and scanned the tops of the tassels, listening for the beat of wings. Only the breeze whispered in her ears.

She pursed her lips. Were those part of the dream as well? When exactly had the dream started?

A screen door creaked open, leading to the apartment over-top the diner the three shared. Polk poked his head out. "Hey, Blond--" He grinned at her look. "You coming in or what?"

Well, why not ask him?

"Come here," she said, with a jerk of her head.

He crouched behind the protection of the screen door. "I said I was sorry about the Blondie joke."

"No, you didn't," said Aurora. "But I'm not going to hit you. I just want to ask you something."

He stepped out from behind the screen door and crept forward, arms raised. Aurora folded her arms impatiently, and he dropped his hands to his sides. "What about?"

"About the break we took this afternoon?" She watched his expression. "I threw that stone--"

He chortled. "Yeah, and you hit two crows? That was so cool!"

So, that hadn't been part of the dream. Somehow, that's not comforting. "What did I do, after?"

"What, other than cheer?"

"I didn't cheer!"

He flashed her his lopsided grin. "Why are you asking me, then?"

She slugged him.

He staggered back, clutching his shoulder. "You said you weren't going to hit me!"

"Not about the Blondie joke. Be serious, for once! I know the question's silly, but I need an answer! What did I do next?"

"You... Matron called us in. Said the Hobsons' order was up. You went into the diner."

"Did I say anything?"

"Not a thing. I thought you were angry or something."

She looked away. "I see."

"Were you?"

"Was I what?"

"Angry at me? You just clammed up and walked off without a word."

She gave him a tight smile. "Nah -- I don't know, Polk, I'm just having a weird day."

He nodded slowly. "Well, don't have too many of those, okay? I'm supposed to be the moody one, around here. I can't handle any competition."

She laughed. "Yeah, okay."

He nodded over his shoulder. "C'mon! Matron's loading up the next season of Corner Gas."

Aurora followed Polk up the stairs to Matron's apartment. There, she and Polk sprawled next to Matron on the battered, fluffy couch and they watched their downloaded show on Matron's battered, wall-mounted widescreen. Popcorn rattled in the microwave. An hour later, Matron turned off the television and hauled herself off the couch, grimacing as her legs protested. "Bedtime, Aurora. I'll straighten up."

Aurora nodded. No argument about staying up later, as Polk slept on the couch. She levered herself up and gave Matron a brief kiss on the cheek. "G'night!"

Polk grabbed a set of blankets from behind the couch and flopped down, wrapping his cocoon around himself in record time. "'Night," was his muffled response. Aurora and Matron went to their respective bedrooms. Aurora sat by her battered wooden desk, finishing off her algebra assignment for correspondence school.

At 11:00 p.m., she eased into bed, washed, brushed and wearing a long t-shirt. She pulled the covers to her chest and fluffed up the pillows behind her, and then lay back and stared at the ceiling.

How could I have forgotten my mother?

Two conflicting sets of memories bumped their shopping carts in the aisles of her mind. She remembered growing up with her mother, and she remembered having no parents at all. She remembered going to a real school in St. Boniface, picnics on the shores of Lake Winnipeg, and she remembered living in Cooper's Corners, in northern (actually, west-central; 'northern' had been her assessment as a resident of Winnipeg) Saskatchewan, all her life, coming to Aunt Matron as a young orphan, playing with the village kids, being homeschooled and gradually taking over the waitressing duty until she grew into her life of wiping counters and serving coffee all day, every day.

And as she reached back in her mind, the memories of Manitoba flooded her. Summer barbecues. Homework. Roger, the school bully.

She shuddered. Okay, it was a mixed bag, but the tumble of revealed memories told her what was real and what was fake. She'd had a mother. She also had an aunt Matron, and three years of experience living in Cooper's Corners, waiting tables, babysitting Britney. But somehow she'd been made to think that there was no one else but Aunt Matron. And as she finally remembered the trip that had taken her from Winnipeg to this place, she had a pretty good idea of who had done this to her.

Confusing the picture was the crow man, and the cloud of crows that had filled her vision when she had looked him in the eye. What was up with that? Had she dreamed it all while she was sleepwalking?

Part of her mind spoke up. No, it said. Something attacked me. When that black truck arrived, something -- possibly the crow man -- pulled me into a dream and tried to grab me. And I reacted by ducking back into a deeper dream, about the day before I came here, breaking the hypnosis that kept me here.

But how could I do that without anybody noticing? I don't sleepwalk. I don't even sleep, remember?

Tomorrow, she thought, I'm going into that diner with my eyes open.

Aurora grabbed the first book off her bedside table, The Kite Runner, found her place, and began reading.

She finished the book by midnight, set it down, and picked up the next book on her pile, A Thousand Splendid Suns. She adjusted her pillows around her and started in

At 1:00 p.m., she left her bedroom to go pee. Returning to her room, she took up Terry Pratchett's Small Gods and started to read. At 2:30 p.m., she set that book aside and turned out the light. She lay in bed and stared at the ceiling.

At 3:00 a.m., she caught the time off the low-light display of her tablet and stared up at the ceiling again.

Her teachers were convinced that she was a fast reader; instead, she simply had more time to read. But in the end, there was only so much you could read at one time. If you didn't want to wake up the house around you, you ended up staring up at the ceiling, waiting for the sun to rise. And that's when the darkest thoughts started to materialize if you weren't careful.

"Maybe I'm dead," she muttered aloud. And why not? Now that she remembered, it was practically a medical diagnosis...

#

"So, Aurora," said Dr. Zane. "You're in perfect health. Is there anything else?"

"Yeah." Aurora couldn't suppress the urge to look around to make sure they were alone, even though the doctor's office was half the size of her bedroom. She leaned close. "I can't sleep."

The doctor frowned. "You're having trouble sleeping?"

She nodded.

"How long has this been going on?"

She looked into his eyes.

"And the Nobel prize in medicine," the M.C. shouts, "for his contributions to medical science: Dr. Myron Zane!"

Dr. Zane approaches the podium, carried on the shoulders of his colleagues. The audience chants "Zane! Zane! Zane!"

"Thank you!" he shouts to the cheering masses. "I owe it all to--"

Instead of "the past four months", Aurora said, "A while."

"Everything good at school?"

She stopped herself from rolling her eyes. He'd ask that about a hangnail. "Fine."

He blinked. "Everything good at home?"

"It's fine!"

"Your bed uncomfortable?"

She shook her head.

"Something worrying you?"

Other than the fact that I don't sleep and that I look into people's dreams whenever I look them in the eye? "No."

He leaned back in his chair. "Many people have trouble getting to sleep, Aurora. You're probably putting too much pressure on yourself. It's a bit of a catch-22. I can get you information on some relaxation exercises you can try as you go to bed..."

He droned on. Aurora stared at his steepled fingers. This is going nowhere. But how can it go anywhere when I haven't told him the true extent of the problem?

It had started slowly. In the days after that first alarming bleed and those deeply embarrassing conversations about maxi-pads and tampons, Aurora tossed and turned at night.

She didn't think there was anything unusual about that. In the stress of those days, of course she'd have trouble getting to sleep. And she wasn't tired when she woke up in the morning. At school, when her teacher droned on and some of the students nodded off, she just got restless instead. So, it didn't alarm her much to see her bedside clock display 1:00, 3:00, 5:00 and 7:00 each night.

Until the night when she didn't sleep at all.

And the night after that.

Okay, maybe hel'll jump at a chance to make a medical case history out of me. If he figures out what's wrong with me, then he deserves a Nobel Prize. This isn't normal.

"Look, I can't sleep," she cut in. "I don't sleep. I stay up all night staring at the ceiling. I haven't slept for, like..." She caught herself again, then forced the words from her mouth. "Four months. Straight."

Dr. Zane had leaned forward as she said this, his brow furrowing, but now he sat back, his face clearing like the end of a storm. "Oh, you're worrying too much!"

Her voice rose. "I already said I'm not! There's something wrong with me. Test me!"

"Aurora, I don't need to examine you to know that you're sleeping," said Dr. Zane. "If you went more than ten days without sleep, you'd be dead. You're sleeping. You just don't remember sleeping. Now, about those relaxation exercises..."

She slumped back in her seat. Maybe I dream about the clock showing me 3:00 a.m. Maybe I dream of listening to the BBC World Service because I've heard all the other podcasts several times. Or maybe I'm dead and haven't realized it yet.

Funny, though. I would have thought the dead got lots of sleep.

#

Aurora blinked back the memory and closed her eyes.

You've done this before. Just close your eyes and take deep, slow breaths. Cleansing air in. Stressed air out. Let the day's jumbled thoughts slip beneath the waters of silence, if not sleep.

The clock display flipped to 3:20 a.m.

After two hours of deep breathing and thoughtful silence, courtesy Dr. Zane, Aurora looked over at her clock radio and saw the display flip to 5:25. Outside her window, she saw the first glimmer of dawn. The drapes twisted in a cool breeze and brought the smell of rain. Somewhere, with the sound of distant rolling kegs, thunder rumbled.

Aurora rolled out of her bed and padded to the bathroom. In front of the mirror, she dragged a comb through her bed-matted hair and stared at her reflection. Other than some troublesome pimples, and that little snub nose she hated, the face staring back at her was that of a typical, mildly pretty teenage girl. She didn't even have rings under her eyes.

"Not bad for a dead girl," she muttered.

I'm not dead, am I? I'm just weird. A great medical mystery. I'd spend the rest of my life in sleep laboratories if I could get any doctor to believe, for one second, that I've been wide awake, now, for three years and count--

Aurora froze with her hand halfway to the knob of her bedroom door.

I did sleep. In the car, when Mom played that tape on me. It was the first time I can recall sleeping since I got my period.

Her hand fell to her side.

"Mom, what did you do to me?"

And why?

#

In the diner, Aurora got the coffee ready and laid out the cutlery. In the kitchen, Matron turned on the toasting machine -- a ludicrous device that could toast bread for a restaurant four times the diner's size and eight times the diner's clientele -- and the diner filled with the smell of roasting crumbs. Matron turned on the grill and scraped it down.

Aurora watched as the dawn fought to brighten against a line of dark clouds along the horizon. As she worked, she caught flashes of lightning out of the corner of her eye. Moments later, the sound of distant thunder rolled across the fields.

A thunderstorm. Was that good for the crops this time of year? Her country-girl self wouldn't have needed to ask, but her real self hadn't a clue.

Gravel crunched outside as the first pick-up pulled up. The door jangled. Ike Henderson slid into the booth seat. "Hey, Aurora."

"Hello, Mr. Henderson," said Aurora. "You by yourself?"

Ike nodded. "Molly and Britney will be along for dinner, but I got work to do."

"Farm work?"

"What do you think?" He grinned at her.

Aurora winced. It had sounded lame, but she couldn't think of anything else to say. The memories of her city girl upbringing had robbed her of country small talk. She poured him a cup of coffee and set the mug in front of him. As he nodded his thanks, their eyes met.

Ike drives his tractor, turning the black soil over. The field behind the plow turns to straight, long furrows. The ground sprouts green, then yellow, as the stalks rise up. He glances behind him, and smiles.

On the horizon, a thunderstorm rumbles. Somewhere, a crow caws.

As she snapped out of the dream, the crow's caw echoing in her ears, Mr. Henderson turned to look at the cloudy horizon beyond the window. "Odd storm, coming in from the east like that," he said. "It's like it's rolling in backwards."

She frowned at him. "What do you mean?" But there was another crunch of gravel outside and a car door slammed.

The storm brewed as the day drew on, and people came and left. The clouds turned into mountain peaks under the noonday sun. Aurora couldn't stop herself from taking quick glances at it as she polished the table tops or served up the meals through lunch.

After two there were no more tables to polish, no more cutlery to rearrange. The diner was empty. Polk and Matron came out of the kitchen. Polk grabbed some ketchup bottles to be refilled while Matron flipped between the TV channels, looking for news.

Aurora flipped the towel over her shoulder and sat down at the counter near them. "Slow day," she said.

Polk shrugged. "It happens. Sometimes people decide to make their own lunches. Shocking, I know. It should be banned--"

From her stool, Aurora kicked him in the shin.

"Ow!" He whined theatrically. "Matron!"

"Now, now," said Matron, giving up and leaving the TV muted on some trashy reality show. "None of that." She plopped down a deck of cards.

"No, thanks," said Aurora. "I've got a book to read." She turned towards the diner's exit.

The door jangled as she stepped outside. The gravel crunched underfoot.

Outside, halfway to the door to the apartment, Aurora stopped. She did a slow turn, scanning the whole flat landscape and listening hard to the sounds around her. The sun baked the back of her neck.

No cars passed on the roadway outside the diner. No kids shouted on the rusting playground swings on the corner. Starlings chirped from the tassels, but Cooper's Corners' houses stood silent.

What am I doing here? We're out in the middle of nowhere. Mom had objected to that, when she'd called Matron, and I can see why. You'd think that if you were going to hide someone, it would be among other people. But here, in this driveway, with only the sounds of nature for company, I could imagine that all of the people had gone, and that me, Polk and Matron were the only humans left alive -- alive and alone, facing... what?

From the eastern horizon came the sound of distant thunder. Aurora shivered in the midsummer heat.

She went into the back apartment and grabbed her book from the bedside table. Then, as she left her bedroom, she paused beside Matron's bedroom door. She'd promised herself that she'd get Matron's secret out of her, but now that she stood on the threshold of violating the woman's privacy, Aurora hesitated.

This is the woman who has cared for me all my life -- okay, the past three years. She wasn't one to show much affection, but she wasn't all bristles and snide, either. She'd encouraged me to go to the country social when I was sure it would do nothing but leave me holding up a wall. But I'd had fun, with Polk. No, Matron wasn't Mom, but she'd been... okay.

And I intend to repay this by snooping around her bedroom?

But then again, people had gone snooping through my memories, hadn't they? And Matron had to be in on that.

Aurora twisted the doorknob with more vigour than she'd intended. The door swung open and she had to catch it before it banged against the wall.

The bedroom was as neat as the rest of Matron's house and restaurant. White curtains were drawn against the window. The bed was made with white sheets and hospital corners. The closet door was closed, and the dresser was bare, save for a handheld mirror. A single shelf held a dozen cookbooks. Beneath it on the floor was a wooden chest.

It was neat. Sensible. Just like Matron. But Aurora frowned. It was more than sensible: it was without personality. This was a room withholding comment its occupant.

Except for the wooden chest. It looked like a toy chest that might hold dress-up clothes. Aurora came forward for a closer look. It was unlocked. She opened the lid and peered in.

The box was full of old, childish junk. Aurora pulled out a raggedy doll, a bundle of ancient lolly-pops, a couple of building blocks, and a large book. What were these, keepsakes? It's like an emergency kit for someone who'd rescued children.

The book had no title. It was thick, and had a picture of mountains on the cover. She opened it.

"Sally flies over mountains. She reaches down and touches a peak. The snow crumbles on her fingertips..."

Aurora flipped through the pages, caught images dark and light, but nothing that interested her. She put the book back in the chest and closed the lid, disappointed. It had been a fruitless search, and now Matron and Polk were going to be wondering where she was. She hurried downstairs.

Back in the diner, she sat at the counter, seats away from Matron and Polk. She kept her nose in her book, turning pages only when she remembered to, and thought of her next move.

On the horizon, a sun-bleached farmhouse disappeared behind a veil of rain.

At four, Matron stood up from the card game. "Let's get ready for dinner hour."

Before long, the gravel outside scrunched and the shop bell jangled as the usual crowd trickled in. Britney bolted through the door, followed by her mother. She ran up to Aurora, flung her arms around Aurora's legs and gave her a big hug before rushing to her seat. Aurora watched her go with a raised eyebrow, but she smiled.

The Hobsons arrived a few minutes later, followed by the Pankiws, then the farmhands from the fields. Soon the place was chattering, and Aurora was working the tables. Hamburgers and fries. A Hungry Man (four eggs, four bacon, four sausages, ham and a coronary). Some of Matron's pot pie. Aurora carried the plates to their tables as the orders arrived.

When there was nothing left for Aurora to do but refill the coffee, she jabbed the buttons on the remote. The regulars liked to ignore the six o'clock news while they ate their meals, but she couldn't find a signal. She gave up when she spied Britney finishing the last of her burger and pushing the tomato to the side of her plate with the end of her knife, eyes narrowing in disdain. Aurora then began tallying orders on the cash register and delivering them one by one to the tables.

"So, how was everything?" Aurora asked the Hobsons as she scribbled on her notepad. She ripped off the slip and held it out. Then she stared a long moment, wondering why she was holding a bill out to an empty booth.

She looked to her left, then her right. The Hobsons should have been in front of her, but they weren't, and they weren't at any of the other tables either.

Aurora crumpled the bill and darted for the kitchen. Matron looked up as she burst in.

"The Hobsons!" said Aurora. "They skipped out without paying!"

"What are you talking about?" said Matron.

"What do you mean, what am I talking about?" Aurora waved her arms. "Hobson family. They had one roast beef and one eggs benedict plus a whole lot of coffee and two slices of pie. $29.95, not including taxes and tip! I wrote up their bill, but they left before I could hand it to them!" Then she realized that Matron was frowning at her, rather than at the news. "What?"

"I never made up an order for eggs benedict," said Matron.

Aurora gawped at her. "But... I took their order!"

Matron shrugged and turned back to the grill. "Well, if you did, you didn't hand it to me. Maybe that's why they left without paying."

"But I served them! You cooked it up!" Aurora stared at Matron. "You've got to remember!"

Matron clucked her tongue. "You're imagining things, girl. I know what I served up to my customers today, and eggs Benedict wasn't on that list. Maybe you were remembering yesterday? Maybe one of yesterday's bills got mixed up in your hands?"

Aurora bit her lip. Then she took a deep breath. "Yeah," she said. "Must be."

She turned on her heel and strode out of the kitchen.

Outside, distant thunder rolled over the sounds of dinner. Aurora looked up and down the diner. Save for the Hobsons, everybody else was here. Ike Henderson got up from the table, stretched, and ambled to the washroom.

"Hey, Aurora!" shouted Jake, a gawky farmhand sitting with his friends in a booth.

Without thinking, Aurora looked at him. Their eyes met.

The bikini is very, very small, and Aurora is very, very... bouncy, as she races down the sand, giggling and...

Aurora gave him a look that could melt cast iron. "What?" she bellowed, making the diners around her jump.

The farmhand went pale. His friends at his table started to snicker. He gulped and held up an empty glass. "Um... more water... please?"

The sky darkens. There is a flash of lightning.

Aurora looked away, ashamed of herself. It's not like he could control his dreams, or know that she wanted him to. She didn't need to strike him down with lightning, tempting though that was. "Sure," she muttered, and went behind the counter.

As she pulled a glass from the rack and filled it from the tap, she frowned. The thunder and lightning hadn't been hers. It was a part of Jake's dream. Thunder and lightning on the beach? Why would the storm invade his dream like that?

And why does 'invade' sound so right?

She jumped as the water overflowed the glass and ran over her hand. She shut off the tap, poured a little out, then marched over to Jake's table and plunked the glass in front of him. "Thanks," he said. Then she looked up.

The booth was empty.

Aurora stepped back, tripped on her feet and fell, catching herself on the stools by the counter.

The diner silenced. She felt nearly a dozen pairs of eyes stare at her, and her cheeks reddened. She pushed herself back to her feet. "It's okay," she said. "I'm okay."

But it wasn't okay. The ripple of conversation was quieter than it had been a couple of minutes ago. She was seeing more empty vinyl where there should have been people. There'd been no sound of the bell on the doorjamb jingling, she was sure of it. No one had left the restaurant in the last ten minutes, and yet the noise level had gone steadily down.

At the far end of the diner, Aurora saw Mr. Radwanski pull his wallet from his pocket. She grabbed up his bill. Keeping him in sight as she walked up to him, she looked down at the last moment to total his bill. She tore off the slip. "So, was everything okay?"

She stared at an empty booth.

"Aurora? Are you okay?"

The diners were staring at her again. The remains of them, anyway. And in the kitchen, Matron's grill sizzled like nothing was wrong. Thunder rumbled.

She tried to slow her thumping heart. Failed. This was getting worse.

Then her eyes shot back to Mrs. Henderson and Britney. What was wrong with this picture? Then she remembered. Mr. Henderson still hadn't come back from the bathroom.

Ignoring the looks of the remaining customers, Aurora barged into the men's room. At the urinal, Polk yelped and zipped himself up. "Hey!"

There was only one sink, one urinal and one stall with a toilet. Aurora crouched and peered beneath the barrier. There were no feet in front of the toilet. "Where's Mr. Henderson?"

Polk cast the damp towels into the waste bin. "What are you talking about?"

She straightened up. "Ike Henderson! You know who he is, don't you?"

"Of course I do!" He frowned at her. "Aurora, what's going on?"

"Did he come in here?"

"No."

"What?" Aurora scanned the walls for hidden doorways, hatches. "He came in here! I saw him go in here! Didn't you see him?" She turned this way and that in the middle of the small room. "Mr. Henderson! Where are you?"

Polk caught her by the shoulders and held on as she struggled. "Calm down!"

She slapped his hands away. "Don't you tell me to calm down! Either Ike Henderson was here and he disappeared, or I'm losing my mind! So, which is it, huh?"

"Um..." He swallowed. "Which do you want it to be?"

She turned away with an exasperated yowl and burst out of the washroom...

...into an empty diner.

The grill was silent. Behind her, the door to the empty men's room swung on its hinges.

The jangling of the bell caught her attention and Aurora looked at the door. Mrs. Henderson held it open for her daughter. They were leaving. Alone. The last customers of the night. The door swung shut behind them.

Aurora charged the length of the diner. "Mrs. Henderson! Wait!"

She ran out the door and looked around wildly. In the dying light of the sun, she saw a young girl standing with her doll in the middle of the road.

"Britney!" Aurora cried. The girl turned, her doll hanging by her side. Aurora ran onto the road and pulled Britney to the shoulder.

Aurora knelt in front of Britney and looked her in the eye.

Britney swings in Aurora's arms, twirling around the wheat stalks, laughing. Mr. Scaly is safely locked inside his pet carrier. The sun shines and the birds sing.

The sky darkens.

Over Aurora's shoulder, clouds appear, solidifying into a thousand black shapes, flapping closer.

Aurora blinked. Britney stared back, lost but strangely calm.

"He's coming for you," said the girl.

"What?!" Aurora shook the strange vision out of her head. "What were you doing out here?" She tried to keep the edge out of her voice. "You can't just stand in the middle of the road like that. What would your parents think?"

Britney blinked. "Not here," she said distantly. "Mom. Dad. Not here."

Aurora swallowed. This is getting worse. Scratch that. It had passed worse and was well on its way to catastrophic. "Come inside, Britney. C'mon, let's get some ice cream."

Britney looked up at her with wide eyes. "Chock-lit?"

Aurora smiled. "Of course."

She turned towards the diner and felt Britney's hand slip from her fingers. Aurora turned. She was alone on the gravel driveway. Around her, the wind sighed in the grain.

"Britney?" she shouted. "Britney!"

Britney's doll lay sprawled on the gravel. Aurora picked it up and clasped it to her shoulder. Thunder rumbled.

Aurora turned. The clouds were almost upon her.

She drew breath for a scream, but the words caught in her throat as a crow cawed. Aurora's gaze shot round and then she saw it, perched atop the power pole where the gravel drive met the wheat field. One crow for sorrow, she thought.

"Aaa! Aaa!" said the crow, a sound like a rusty gate. Then, "Aaa! Roa! Raa!"

Aurora blinked.

The crow stretched its wings and kicked off its perch, coasting down into the wheat field and perching on a seeder. It tucked its wings in and looked back at her, focusing on her with one eye, then the other. It cawed again: "Aaa! Roa! Raa!"

Aurora shouted. "Who are you? What do you want? What did you do to all the people?"

"Aaa! Roa! Raa!"

"I know who I am! Tell me something I don't know!"

"He! ... He!" the crow cawed. Then, "He! ... Comes!"

Movement caught her eye, and she looked up at the billowing clouds. Crows were flying in from every direction, hovering in the air in front of her, forming like a cloud of starlings, then like smoke. As Aurora watched, the cloud pulled itself into shape. She could make out the beginnings of a head, two arms, hands outstretched in a gesture like longing--

"Aurora! Wake up!" Matron shouted.

Aurora whirled around and stared down the barrel of a browning rifle. She hit the muddy dirt as Matron fired over her head. The crows scattered, crying murder--

--and Aurora snapped awake, gasping and dripping.

Matron pulled her up with one hand, the other holding her rifle.

"Oh, thank God," gasped Aurora. "It was only a dream."

"Yup," said Matron, looking pale. "You're awake. And now you need to run."

"What?" She blinked. "Since when do you own a rifle?" Wait a minute, what was the rifle still doing here? Wasn't it part of the dream?

"Look around you, girl!"

Aurora turned and immediately wished she hadn't. The billowing, twisting grey clouds were still there. They had turned black and feathery, and they were descending. Shingles were blowing off the houses in Cooper's Corners. Somewhere, a window smashed.

"Where is everybody?" Aurora yelled.

"They're sheltering," Matron shouted. "Waiting for the storm to pass, but it won't. Not while you're here." She drew back the pump of the rifle, a classic click-click. Then she came closer and looked Aurora in the eye. "You know, don't you? Don't try to deny it, girl, I can see it in your eyes. After all the trouble your mom went through to put you to sleep, you woke up. I thought you might. You were always a stubborn child."

So many things that she wanted to say crowded into Aurora's mouth that she spluttered.

Matron hefted the weapon onto her shoulder. "Well, maybe it's for the best. He's coming for you. It's best you be wide awake when you run."

"Run?! Run from who? Who's coming for me?"

"No time!"

"But where will I go?"

"Go to Saskatoon." Matron shoved a piece of paper at her, along with a set of car keys. "I've written down the address. I can't keep you safe anymore, so you need to get back to her."

"Back to who? What are you talking about?" Aurora wanted to scream and cry and shake Matron to make her explain.

"No more questions!" Matron yelled over the rising rumble of the wind and the cry of crows. "Just go! Go now! You can't let him take you, girl! It will be disaster if he does!"

Aurora looked up at the spiralling clouds again. She froze.

"Run, you idiot!" Matron yelled. "Run!"

Aurora ran, mud squelching and gravel crunching. Matron's battered brown Chevy came into view. Slipping and skidding, she caught herself with one hand on the car roof and fumbled with the door handle. It was unlocked and opened suddenly, knocking her hand, sending the keys to the gravel. Aurora twisted to pick them up, and fell over into a puddle.

The light went out of the sky.

Aurora grabbed the keys, dove into the car and slammed the door. The car shook in the buffeting winds. Without thinking, she pulled on her seat belt and checked the rear-view mirror. She cried out.

The crows descended on Matron like a funnel cloud. Matron brought up her rifle and sighted along the barrel.

Aurora turned the key in the ignition. The station wagon sputtered to life and she danced on the clutch. Gears creaked as she shoved it into first. Wheels spinning, gravel spraying, she manhandled the car onto the road. Second gear and the car picked up speed. Third gear. Go.

Behind her, she heard the rifle blast, and the murder of crows.

Forward to Chapter Three ->>

<<- Back to the Prologue.

Chapter One: The Sea of Tassels

When Aurora Kelso came to refill the Hendersons' coffee cups at table six, she could see that Britney had been having that nightmare again.

The Hendersons' four-year-old daughter sat by the window, playing with her Barbie doll while her parents looked out at the dusty wheat fields and finished the dregs of their breakfasts.

The kitchen could be heard through the window behind the counter. Eggs sizzled, and the coffee maker gurgled while Aunt Matron scraped the grease trap. At the back of the room, a slosh of water came as Polk washed the dishes. Country music played on the radio.

The stools along the counter were all empty except for one. Most of the locals came as families these days, big men in plaid shirts with their wives and children. They chose the booths along the picture window that looked out across the highway and onto Cooper Farm. Even the teenage farmhands clustered in groups of four or five. Not that there was much jostling for seats. The diner could seat twice the number of people who lived in the hamlet, and the number of people who drove up the road each week could be counted on one hand.

Britney looked up from her Barbie doll and giggled as her father made faces at her.

She's not even thinking of the nightmare she had last night, Aurora thought. She hardly even remembers it. But it's there, waiting. It's going to come again.

And when Britney looked up into Aurora's eyes, Aurora saw it.

A flurry of legs, a scrabble of claws, the slimy green skin. A great leap of fangs arches down. Britney screams--

Aurora gripped her coffee carafe and swayed a little. She closed her eyes and let the dream pass through her. It was only a dream, after all. But try telling that to Britney. She approached the table with a smile. "More coffee, everyone?"

Mr. Henderson beamed and held up his cup. "Yes, please."

Mrs. Henderson passed hers over. "Me, too."

Aurora turned her bright smile on the girl. "And what would the little lady like for dessert?"

Mr. Henderson grinned at Britney. "What do you think, Pixie?"

The girl sat so upright, her blonde locks bounced. "Ice cream!"

Her father's grin widened. "Are you sure, now?"

The girl's head bobbed.

Mr. Henderson nodded to Aurora. "Ice cream it is, Miss Kelso!"

"Well," Aurora set her carafe aside and clapped her hands together. "Maybe somebody would like to pick out their favourite flavour?"

The girl kicked her legs happily, then looked quickly at her father. He smiled and nodded. Britney hopped from her seat and followed Aurora to the ice cream stand.

But rather than haul Britney up to show her the eight flavours, she knelt so that her face was level with Britney's.

"Britney," she said, keeping her voice low. "Have you been having that nightmare again?"

Britney's smile vanished. She nodded. Her lower lip trembled.

"You did what I told you, right?" said Aurora. "You imagined a door with a lot of locks?"

Britney nodded. She sniffed. "But it came through the window."

Aurora looked away. Barriers never worked. Running away never worked. They always found a way through and ran faster. There was only one way left to deal with this.

She turned back to Britney, "Okay. You want to make Mr. Scaly go away for good?"

Britney nodded vigorously.

"You've already imagined a fence, right?" said Aurora, "and it came true?"

Britney nodded. "But he jumped over it," she mumbled.

"And you've already imagined a door, right?" Aurora continued. "So you know that you can imagine whatever you want in the dream, and it's right there in front of you. Right?"

Britney's brow furrowed, but she nodded.

"So, I want you to imagine..." What could she say? The kid was only four years old. It didn't seem right to be giving a four-year-old a gun, even in her dreams. "A bicycle pump."

Britney tilted her head and gave Aurora a baleful look from under her eyebrows.

"Trust me." Aurora squeezed Britney's shoulder gently. "A bicycle pump... with a big wad of gum at the end, so that Mr. Scaly's teeth sink in and... get stuck?"

A smile spread across Britney's face. Already, Aurora could see how the dream would go. Mr. Scaly would leap, teeth clamping down, while Britney raised the nozzle of her bicycle pump like a dragonslayer. And the teeth would go... scrunch... and there would be Mr. Scaly, dangling off the nozzle, feebly trying to pry his teeth loose. Slimy claws catching and sticking to the big wad of chewing gum.

And Britney would clasp the bicycle pump and begin pumping. And Mr. Scaly would puff up like a balloon, making muffled, desperate grunts as his eyes bugged out like a blowfish. He'd puff bigger and bigger until his skin paled and creaked. Then Britney would pause. He would stare at her. He'd make one last pleading squeal as Britney reached for the pump and shoved it down hard...

Aurora closed her eyes at the sudden pop. Britney laughed. Aurora almost felt sorry for Mr. Scaly. Almost.

Definitely don't give this kid a gun, even in her dreams.

She hugged Britney and hefted her up to the glass. "Now, what flavour would you like?"

"Chock-lit," said Britney.  And smiled.

#

Aurora whipped off her apron as she entered the kitchen and strode over to the sink to wash her hands.

"I'm on break, Matron," she called.

"You don't have to shout it, Dearie." Matron looked up over the sizzle of the grill. "And you're not on break yet. Not until the Hobsons' eggs are up."

"Yeah, I know." Aurora smiled at the sturdy, greying, red-haired woman. Their eyes met.

The wind blows the surf against the beach. Palms wave in the breeze and the sky is a cobalt dome.  The hot sand rubs between Matron's toes, but she smiles as she walks with purpose. Up ahead is a Marguerita stand.

Aurora let the images wash over her and soothe her, even though she didn't really need it. What was she going to do once Matron decided to retire and get that Florida bungalow?

"But those eggs won't be up for a few minutes, will they?" she asked. When Matron refused to answer, she added, "Until then, I'm on break."

"You could do the dishes, you know," said Matron as Aurora reached for the back door.

"That's Polk's job." Aurora glanced at the sink, a mountain range of dishes and bubbles. "Where is that slacker?" She shoved open the back door and marched down the steps.

She found Polk, Matron's foster son, on the gravel parking lot, on the concrete lip that protected a battered stairwell leading to the basement storage area from flooding. He was stretched out on his back, an arm curled behind his head for a pillow, and his baseball cap planted over his face, snoring.

She stood over top of him, her hands on her hips. "What are you doing out here, slacker?"

The snoring stopped, but Polk didn't move. "I'm on break, Blondie."

She kicked him. He fell into the stairwell.

He landed lightly on his feet, and jumped up over the parapet. The gravel scrunched underfoot as he stood in front of her, arms folded, cap on his dirty brown hair, a one-sided grin on his face. "What's up?"

"There were a lot of dishes in the sink last time I looked."

"There were still eggs to be served last time I looked."

"Well, I'll go back if you go back," said Aurora.

"Now who's the slacker?"

They glared at each other for a long moment, each waiting for the other to blink. Then, their tension broke at the same time as both snorted with laughter.

"C'mon," he said, nodding towards the back wall of the diner.

As she looked up at him, their eyes met. Instinctively, Aurora braced herself.

Polk walks across the gravel lot behind the diner and pushes aside the stalks of wheat as he enters the neighbouring field. He grins as he wades into the waving sea of golden brown. The blue skies stretch on forever, and he shields his face from the sun.

And you say that you want to get away from all this, thought Aurora. Liar.

But as he broke the connection and leaned against the wall, Aurora reflected that this was, frankly, a relief. For the three years since she became a teenager here at Cooper's Corners, it was getting so she couldn't look any of the other boys in the eye. It was just too embarrassing. But Polk had none of that. No crass thoughts about wet t-shirts. His dreams consisted of nothing but the ground on which he stood.

You talk big, she thought, but you don't dream about anywhere or anything else. I like you.

"Fine," she said, following him. "But call me Blondie one more time, and you'll regret it."

"Sure thing, Blond--" He chuckled at her as she glared.

Aurora leaned on the sun-bleached siding and stared out across the fields. The wheat rolled like golden surf in the hot, dusty wind. The sunlight settled on them like a warm cloak. She scuffed the gravel with the toe of her shoe. Then her toe hit something. She looked down.

Knocked loose by her foot was a small, flat stone, dark where the gravel was white. She frowned and picked it up.

There was heft to it, like a baseball. It narrowed from half an inch thick on one side to almost a knife's point, but there were no sharp edges to cut her. Her palm and forefinger curved around the thick side perfectly.

It was a skipping stone. She knew it was a skipping stone, though they were miles away from any water to skip it on. She could picture herself leaning into the throw, bringing her arm around, letting the stone go, and watching it catch the air like a sail and meet the water along its smooth, flat end, arching back into the air again and again and again.

But before her, only a sea of tassels waved.

Polk bent down and snapped a stalk of wild grass growing by the base of the building. He put one end of the stalk between his teeth and started chewing.

Aurora rolled her eyes. "Polk!"

The grass stalk arched up. "What?"

"Take that out of your mouth!" She snatched at it, but Polk ducked away. "I swear, if some city folk see you like that, they may as well pose next to you for photographs."

He shrugged. "They could if they paid me a dollar."

She sighed. "Only a dollar?"

Then, movement caught Aurora's eye, and she looked past Polk at the strip of asphalt that vanished in the distance. A cloud of dust was rising at the road's vanishing point.

"Truck," she said.

Polk leaned back and closed his eyes. "Hmm... It'll be a B-train, double long semi, white, with a grain logo, and it won't stop."

"No points if it doesn't stop." Aurora levered herself from the wall and stepped out into the gravel lot, watching the growing cloud like a hawk. The whine of its engine and the growl of its wheels grew as it shaped itself into a dark cab and two points of light. Aurora walked to the edge of the wheat field, keeping the truck in sight until it passed behind the diner and roared past.

"Well?" said Polk when she came back.

"B-train," she grumbled. "Double long semi. White. With a grain logo."

His eyes stayed closed, and his lips quirked up. "And it didn't stop."

"I told you: no points for that. No one stops here. They're either heading for Alberta or Saskatoon. You don't deserve an extra point for that."

"They could stop sometimes," he said. "Call of nature and the like."

"And seeing as we're in Saskatchewan, I'm being extra generous, giving you a point for the grain logo."

"Four points, then," said Polk.

"Three."

"Four!"

"Three!"

"Okay."

She shook her head at heaven and leaned on the siding beside him. After a while, she said, "What are you going to do with your life, Polk?"

He shrugged, a quick jerk of his shoulders. "Well, you know me. I've got plans. I'm going to see the world. Join a circus. Take a computer course and make it rich in Redmond. I can't wash dishes for the rest of my life."

Yeah, right. She bit back the next question: what's keeping you?

"What about you?" he asked casually. "What are you going to do with your life now that you're almost sixteen?'

She made a face at him. Lately, he'd always mentioned that she was 'almost sixteen', reminding her yet again that she wasn't sixteen yet, and he was -- almost seventeen, in fact. Like that made any difference. Except that it did.

"I'll be sixteen in five days, twerp," she said. But as she shoved aside the taunt and focused on the question, she frowned. "I don't know," she said at last. "Something. Anything. It's not a life, serving coffee in some country diner. It's something temporary. It's got to change..." Her voice trailed off.

It's got to change because it's wrong, said a voice in the deepest part of her mind.

"You seem okay with your life here," said Polk.

"Aunt Matron's okay," said Aurora. "She takes care of me, and we get along. But she's not a mom, though."

Mom. The word echoed briefly.

"There's nothing to do here," she said, with more force than she'd intended. But the words had popped a cork and more came flowing out. "It's like I'm a prisoner!" She blinked. Where had that thought come from?

And just like that, the impulse to question hit a brick wall.

Polk arched an eyebrow. "A prisoner? Matron got you locked up in your bedroom, spinning gold from wheat, does she?"

Aurora sighed. Her actual bedroom door didn't even lock. "You know what I mean."

She felt the heft of the stone in her hand again. She gave it a quick glance, then looked out at the sea of tassels. She stepped forward and threw it.

It arched as in her imagination, cleared the driveway, and sailed over the tops of the wheat. It curved down...

The wheat splashed. Black erupted from the sea of gold. A crow, cawing angrily, rose from the waves. The stone arched back into the air, came down again a few feet away, and burst the wheat a second time as another crow soared and flapped away to the horizon.

The stone fell a third time and disappeared among the stalks.

Polk's arms dropped to his sides. The grass stalk fell from his mouth. "Two birds with one stone? Great shot!"

But I didn't mean to hit them. They were just there. I got lucky, I guess.

Why should I feel lucky that I hit two crows?

Movement caught her eye, and she looked down the highway. Another cloud of dust was approaching. She pushed her strange worry down and nudged Polk. "Truck," she said.

He leaned back and closed his eyes. "Hmm..." He frowned. "Tough one..."

She blinked. She'd never seen him uncertain before.

"Uh..." He drew himself up. "Double rig, fourteen wheels. Red cab, white body, no logo. And it won't stop."

"No points if it doesn't stop," she said automatically. She strode out to the wheat field, keeping her eye on the road as the dust cloud shaped itself into multiple points of light. She frowned. The cab was black, not red, as was the container, single, not double. Ten wheels. She grinned. He'd gotten this one way wrong.

Then her grin faded. The truck was stopping.

Her mouth dropped open, but there was no mistaking it. The whine of the engine rolled lower. The brakes rumbled. As she stared agape, the truck moved behind one side of the diner and didn't emerge from the other. By the wall, Polk had opened his eyes and was blinking.

Aurora ran to him. "It stopped!"

He turned to the back door. "I know."

Aurora yanked open the back door, and they both bolted through at the same time--or tried to. There was a brief struggle as they squeezed past each other and burst into the kitchen.

"Ah, there you are," said Matron, as she scraped grease off the grill and into the trough. "No rush. I served the Hobsons while you were out."

"Thanks, but--" Aurora began.

The bell above the door jangled. Matron looked out through the cook's window. "We've got customers."

"I know." Aurora pulled on her apron.

Matron frowned. "Not a local man."

"Where's my notepad?" Aurora patted the pockets of her apron frantically.

"You never needed one before," said Matron, wiping down her cooking utensils.

"He's not a regular," said Aurora. "I've never heard his order before." She darted into the dining area.

The new customer was easy to spot just by looking at the other customers. He'd reoriented them like another gravity. The Hobsons were eating quietly but casting curious glances over their shoulders. As the Hendersons gathered Britney's entourage of toys and eased the girl out the door, both parents looked back occasionally to where a man like a black hole sat on one of the stools by the counter, reading a menu.

Aurora grabbed a mug and dragged the carafe from the coffee maker. It made a sound like a knife sliding from its sheath. She shook the strangeness of this sudden simile from her head and pulled herself together. Walking along the counter space, she eyed the new customer.

He was a big man like truckers should be, dressed in black denim jeans and a black short-sleeved shirt with a collar. His muscled arms were matted with black hair, and he had thick black hair and a black beard.

And he probably likes his coffee black, she added to herself. Without asking, she filled the mug and set it in front of him. "See anything you like?" she prompted.

The man looked up at her. The whites of his eyes were black.

"You," he said. His eyes met hers.

Crows.

Aurora staggered back into the cash register. She tried to regain control of her knees, but they didn't belong to her body anymore.

There was a crash in the kitchen. Matron burst through the door, waving her spatula like a club. "Aurora!" she yelled.

Aurora fell. The coffee sloshed over the carafe and scalded her fingers before shattering on the countertop, but she didn't notice. She was out before she hit the floor.

#

Aurora dreamed of the last time she'd seen Lake Winnipeg.

She was twelve, weeks away from turning thirteen. She sat on a boulder, kicking at stones underfoot, while waves lapped at the shore. The sky was the colour of canvas. The north breeze flicked Aurora's blonde hair into her face. She pulled up the zipper of her windbreaker.

"Find what you're looking for, Honey?" asked her mom.

Aurora looked up. Her mother flashed her a grin as she sat on a wave-battered stump. She had her hands thrust into her jacket, and the wind was blowing her blonde hair in front of her face. She'd sat with Aurora, looking across the waves as though waiting for a lost love.

Aurora said nothing. She returned her mother's quick smile, then returned to her close examination of the stones beneath her feet. They clacked and skittered. Then she found it.

It was a round, flat stone, dark and mottled, while the others around it were white. Aurora picked it up. It had the heft of a baseball and narrowed from half an inch thick on one side to almost a knife's edge at the other, but there were no sharp edges to cut her. Her palm and forefinger curved around the thick side perfectly. Aurora cupped it in her palm, clasped it, then stood up. She eyed the northern horizon and took a deep breath.

She leaned into the shot, swinging the stone in a sidearm throw. It left her fingers, spinning, and caught the air like a sail. It met the water along its smooth, flat end, arching back into the air again. Aurora counted the splashes. She clenched her fist and smiled when she reached eight, and the stone finally disappeared.

Her mother clapped. "A new world record!"

She rolled her eyes. "Hardly."

"Who's to know?" said her mother. "It's not like they keep records on that sort of thing."

"Actually, they do. Some guy in Pennsylvania managed to get lighting-eight." Aurora shoved her hands in her pockets.

"Aurora?" The tone of her mother's voice made Aurora turn. Her mother stood up from the stump. "What's bothering you? You've been... withdrawn these past few days. I know that's the default state of a teenager, but you're only twelve, kid. And, besides, I'm a school counsellor with a psychology degree. I know the difference between normal teenagerhood and when something's bothering you. Please tell me."

Aurora sighed. "Mom, nothing's wrong."

"Problems with your teachers?"

"No."

"Problems with Anne?"

"No!"

"Problems with... boys?"

"Mom! No! -- Well..."

Her mother drew herself up, bracing herself for this moment. But it was not what she thought, thought Aurora. If only.

"You know about this boy at school, Roger?" Aurora began.

"The bully you fought?" Her mother nodded. "I know I shouldn't condone violence, but that was still very brave of you."

Aurora's breath caught. "Er... No. It wasn't. It... You don't understand, I..." She halted and breathed deep.

This was it. It all had to come out. She had to tell somebody, or she'd explode. And her mother was the only person left she could talk to. "You see--"

A sound like the squeak of a rusty gate made her turn. On the branch of a stunted tree at the edge of the beach, a crow cocked its head to one side, then the other. It cawed. The north wind picked up, and Aurora shivered.

She thought: It's just a bird.

A bird looking at me.

A bird's got eyes, she thought. It can look at whatever it wants. It's a free country.

But a bird shouldn't look at me with intent. What was it that lawyer guy said on that television show? Malice aforethought? The look was that intense.

She was about to turn away and dismiss the crow from her mind when she heard her mom shout. A stone sailed over her head and struck the branch. The crow flew up, screeching.

"Get out of here!" her mother yelled, reaching for another stone. "Go on, get!" She threw the other rock, and the crow dodged out of the way. It aimed for the sky and took off, cawing.

"Mom!" Aurora shouted when she got her voice back. "Mom, why are --" Then she looked at her mother. "Mom, what's wrong?"

"What? Nothing. Nothing's wrong. Let's go home."

Aurora stood her ground. "Mom? What's wrong?"

Her mother walked carefully over the stones while keeping one eye on the clouds. "Nothing's wrong, Honey. It's just that it's late, and it's getting cold."

Aurora was about to protest when she heard cawing above and looked up. A dotted line of black shapes was weaving across the grey sky. Crows. Flying in a steady stream, calling out to each other as they migrated east.

East?

Her mother reached out for her. "C'mon, Honey, don't argue, please. Let's go home."

Aurora hesitated. Her mother snatched her hand and pulled. She was almost rough.

"Mom!" Aurora stumbled alongside her to the car. "Mom, seriously, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Honey." Her mother was looking at the sky.

She let go of Aurora's hand as they reached the car and opened the side door for her. As Aurora bent to slide inside, a caw made her look up.

The crow was watching her from the branch again.

She got in and slammed the door.

Her mother started the car and drove off in a spray of gravel.

When Aurora got home, her mother plunked her in front of the television set and put on Aurora's favourite movie (The Princess Bride). She even made popcorn and cocoa. But then her mother went to her bedroom and shut the door. And Aurora heard her talking to someone.

She set her popcorn aside and crept down the hall to the bedroom door. She put her ear to the door, but her mom's voice stayed muffled.

"... a problem... ...He may have found us..."

More muffled conversation, a shifting of floor boards. Aurora could picture her mother on the phone, standing by the bedside table, turning slowly, the cord twisting around her.

"...Don't think I was followed... ...You say he has eyes everywhere..."

More mutters, then. "I just don't know what to do! I know! He can't--!" Then more quietly, "But where do I go?"

There was a long, listening silence in the bedroom.

"You're sure you can keep her safe?" said her mother at last. "But you're in the middle of nowhere!"

More silence, then. "Do you promise? Matron, I'm not going anywhere unless you promise! If I'm going to trust you with my daughter, then you have to swear it! On whatever it is you use as a holy book, swear it!"

Another listening silence, then, "Okay. Okay, I'll tell her."

She hung up. Footsteps approached. Aurora thought about racing back to the couch, but decided instead to wait, arms folded, as her mother opened the door.

Her mother gasped to see her standing there.

"What's going on, Mom?"

Aurora saw a parade of emotions steam across her mother's face -- shock, horror, shame -- before getting things back under control, and  giving her daughter a small smile as she matched Aurora folding her arms across her chest.

"Hey, honey," she said. "Want to make a little money?"

Aurora opened her mouth, then stopped. After a moment, she closed her mouth. "Okay. Tell me more."

"I just got a call from your Aunt Matron," said her mother.

Aurora nodded and didn't mention that she hadn't heard the phone ring. Aunt Matron was a kindly older woman, though with red hair, she hardly looked like her mom's sister. She was a good source of gifts whenever she visited and always included a cheque when the birthday or Christmas cards arrived. But where did she live again?

"She's been caught short," her mother went on. "One of her hired hands up and left."

Saskatchewan, Aurora thought. Northern Saskatchewan. The hired hand probably went crazy and made a mad dash for civilization.

Aloud, she said, "That's too bad."

"So, she asked if you could come out and help, for spring break, while she looks for a replacement," her mom went on. "It's win-win. She'd love to see you, and she'll pay the usual wage. How often do you get paid to spend some time with one of your relatives?"

There is that. Aurora looked up at her mother. "And this has nothing to do with why you were so upset back at the lake?"

"What?" said her mother quickly. "N-no! It's just... helping out family, okay? You can do that, can't you? And make a little money on the side?"

Aurora nodded. You're not going to tell me why you're so scared, are you? You're a liar, and worst of all, you think you're doing this for my benefit. Oh, well. Visiting Aunt Matron might be a good consolation prize. If I play along, maybe I can figure out what's going on. Maybe I can wear Matron down and get an explanation.

She smiled at her mother, reached out and brushed her cheek, knocking the glass spirit ball beads that dangled from her mother's ear -- folk art that supposedly protected against bad dreams. "Sure!"

"Pack a bag, Honey. We'll grab a bite to eat on the road."

Aurora blinked. "We're going now?"

Her mother beamed. "Yup!" As though they were on their way to Disneyworld. And she sent Aurora to her room to pack

As Aurora packed, she thought about arguing or even throwing a fit, but at the back of her mind, a little voice told her to play along. There was something about the tension in her mother's shoulders that made her keep her head down. To do otherwise would be like putting a match to a balloon full of gasoline.

So she packed up a week's change of clothes, a bunch of her favourite books (Aunt Matron didn't have cable! Augh!) plus Freddy, the teddy bear that she'd publicly sworn she was too old for but had never deigned to recycle, and hauled the suitcase out of the house and to her mother's SUV.

Her mother loaded the suitcase into the back of the SUV and hurried Aurora into the car. She kept on looking at the trees, but there were no waiting crows. Finally, her mother piled in behind the steering wheel and snapped on her seatbelt. "Ready?"

"Are you?" said Aurora, one eyebrow raised.

Her mother took a breath and held it. "No," she said at last and turned the key in the ignition. Aurora was pressed into her seat as the car shot out of the driveway. The glass spirit ball dangling from the rear-view mirror was pulled almost horizontal.

"Mom!"

"Sorry," said her mother, and slowed down.

They pulled into the first McDonald's drive-thru and bought Big Macs to eat on their laps as they drove. Traffic was heavy as they eased onto the Perimeter Highway, but it moved. As the cars, trucks and SUVs surrounded them, Aurora heard her mother breathing a sigh of relief, but the tension didn't ease from her shoulders, even as they pulled onto the Trans-Canada.

They had the radio on, and they drove on in silence. Aurora kept her ear open for the news in case some secret tsunami was on its way to crush Winnipeg behind them.

They pushed westward. The rocky land of the shield gave way to pasture and then grain fields. They chased the sun as it disappeared over the horizon and kept driving as the farmhouse lights winked off and the interior of their car flashed dark to bright in the headlights of oncoming trucks. The radio stations gave way to static.

"Shall I put on a tape, dear?" asked her mother. For the next hour, they listened to Mozart. Aurora curled her legs beneath her, rested her cheek against the headrest and stared out at the blackness, flecked with distant specks of light.

Mom fed a new tape in. It started softly, with the sound of rushing surf.

Then, her mother's voice washed over the car's speakers.

"I'd like you to take deep, slow breaths. Imagine that with each breath, you are putting all of your tension, all of your stress, into your lungs and breathing them out of your mouth. With each breath, your eyelids are getting heavier."

Aurora's eyelids fluttered.

"Keep your breathing slow and steady," continued her mother's voice. "With each breath, you are falling deeper and deeper asleep."

And Aurora slipped into a deep sleep. She'd be surprised if she hadn't been so sleepy.

"Your name is Aurora Kelso. Not Perrault. Kelso."

#

A hand clapped on Aurora's shoulder. She woke with a gasp and then looked around frantically. She was standing in the middle of the diner. Tom Hobson held her by the shoulder with one hand, and had taken the coffee carafe out of her hand with the other. "Careful, there, young lady! You almost spilled. Does Matron work you like a slave into the middle of the night as well?"

Aurora pulled herself together and looked around at the diner. It was a normal end of the lunch hour.

The dark man was nowhere to be seen.

"You were out on your feet," Mr. Hobson added.

In her mind's eye, Aurora burst out of the controlling comforter and wriggled free.

Her mouth dropped open. "How long have I been asleep?"

Forward to Chapter Two ->>