Grey Haven (Book 1: The Dreamer Chronicles)

Six hours later, I went back to Sully’s shop. It had been six hours of following my classmates, only to watch them go into restaurants, stores, and arcades. No one did anything interesting, beyond a group who shoplifted from a record store and two guys who made out in front of a hate preacher.

Carrie was sitting at one of the tables, her head in her hand. She stared at the table as if she had never seen wood laminate before. Tommy sat next to her, eating a sandwich. He somehow made chewing look sullen. Sully was behind the counter. He cheerfully helped Vince with the orders, but he radiated disappointment. Carrie perked up when I walked in. She went back to staring at the table when I shook my head, even more disheartened.

“We’ll keep looking,” I said. “There’s still tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Carrie agreed.

“You knew it wouldn’t be easy,” I said.

Carrie nodded and didn’t reply. I stole a fry off Tommy’s plate as I sat. I stole a second fry, realizing that I was more than a little hungry. I also realized that Carrie needed a distraction from the disappointment. “I saw Ben in town,” I said.

Carrie sat up straighter. “And?” she asked cautiously.

“He knows we’re looking for the traitor,” I said. “He also told me that Mrs. Z. has gone missing.”

“Mrs. Z. goes on trips all the time,” Carrie said. “How does he know she’s not just gone on one of those?”

He said that he thought Bernard didn’t even know where she was. And – get this – she put Harry in charge.”

Carrie’s eyes widened. “Harry? Something has to be wrong.”

“No kidding,” I said.

“Maybe she went to track down the shade,” Tommy said around his food.

“Shhh,” Carrie said, eyeing the crowded shop.

Tommy shrugged and picked up his pickle. He pointed it at us. “Mrs. Z. is probably taking care of business her way. You know how she is. Terrifying and mysterious.”

“Did Ben say anything else?” Carrie asked.

“The guardian who attacked us woke up Monday night. She tore up the infirmary. That was the last time he saw Mrs. Z.,” I said.

“Hmmm,” Carrie said.

My distraction had worked. The mystery of Mrs. Z. made her forget our failure in an instant, her mind already churning with possible answers. I shared a smile with Tommy, who knew what I had done, and stole another fry off his plate. He slapped my hand, but I stuffed the fry into my mouth before he could grab it. “Get your own,” Tommy said, pulling his plate away from me.

When I got to the register, Sully had a sandwich waiting for me. He also had news. “I won’t be able to help you look tomorrow,” he said. “I promised my mom I would help her with something.”

“I understand,” I said.

“I’ll be back in the shop on Monday,” Sully added. “Vince will know how to get in touch with me if you need anything.”

“Okay,” I said.

I tried to hand him money, but he wouldn’t take it. He gestured me out of the way of the next customer with a small smile. I smiled back, though I couldn’t help but be disappointed. The past week had been full of drama and scary situations, but it had also been nice to be so close to him. It had almost been as if we were dating, and it was unexpected how much I had enjoyed it. It had been more intimate, more real. There was also the feeling that it was dangerous to be away from him. I shook off the feeling as I sat down. It was silly to feel so strange about a day apart. It was a road to heartbreak; a road I wasn’t prepared to follow with him.

On Sunday, we repeated our task of tracking down people on Carrie’s list. We managed to clear some names off simply by how idiotic the people were, but we were nowhere near a genuine answer when it got too dark and cold for us to continue. I saw Ben again. He was with Dana and her friends. I managed to duck into an alley before he or Dana could notice me. His expression was like the one he wore the previous day: worried and tense. Dana didn’t seem to notice his distraction as she talked with her friends; I didn’t think she really cared.

When it was dark, I went back to the shop and found Carrie and Tommy sitting at the same table as the previous day. Carrie was bent over a book, her eyes flying across the words on the page. Tommy was eating again. “What’s up with her?” I asked Tommy.

“The usual,” Tommy said.

“Oh,” I said. “Anything interesting happen?”

“I followed Mrs. Waite around,” Tommy said. “She went to a knitting store, an antique store, and spent an hour picking up three things at the grocery store.”

“Ouch,” I said.

“What about you?” Tommy asked.

“Nothing,” I said. “Carrie?”

Carrie shook her head without looking up from the page. I shrugged, having expected as much. I talked with Tommy until it was time for Vince to go home. He kicked us out of the shop, locked the doors, and left with a friendly, “Goodnight, dudes!” and a wave. Deciding that I had enough of watching Carrie read, I took my pill early and went to sleep.

When I woke up the next morning, it was fully light outside. Carrie was on one of the cots sleeping. There was a fort of books stacked around her, and one of her books was on her chest as she slept. Tommy was on the other cot, his nose twitching. Empty junk food wrappers were scattered on the floor next to him. I yawned as I got out of bed and rubbed at my eyes. I stumbled to the window, to look out, hoping the sunlight would wake me up. The streets were busy with traffic. It was later than I thought, then. I crossed over to Tommy and picked up his hand so that I could look at the phone he had tucked under it. It was a quarter after eleven. I stretched out, feeling odd to wake so late after six months of routine, and went to the bathroom to shower and get ready for the day.

When I was clean, I downstairs. Vince was in the kitchen, restocking the shelves. “What’s up?” he asked warmly.

“Not much. Sully around?” I asked.

“Nah, man, he had errands, then the school thing…You know how it is,” Vince said.

“I suppose,” I said.

“He said he’d be back after lunch,” Vince added.

“Kay, thanks,” I said, and left in search of food, hoping that today was the day we made progress on the hunt.

Tommy and Carrie woke up thirty minutes later. Carrie was irritable at waking up so late, grumbling to herself for a full five minutes, while Tommy sleepily buried back down into the covers, prepared to spend all day asleep, until Carrie pushed him out of the bed. He yelped, and cursed, and they argued heatedly about his sleeping habits and her bossiness, which was familiar enough.

By noon, they were ready for a new plan to occupy the week. Carrie decided to go back to Madam George’s, to see if there were books she missed, while Tommy and I decided to ride our bikes to the edge of town. We didn’t expect answers from the ride, but the exercise was better than watching Carrie alternate between reading and punishing herself for not having an answer. We road for an hour and turned around when the road widened and started to form into a four-lane interstate out of town.

On our way back, however, Tommy came to an abrupt stop on the side of the road. He pointed at a sign that read: Sunny Point Motel. The sign was crooked and in need of a paint job. It fluttered in the wind, as if it were looking for the flimsiest excuse to fall. The motel behind the sign was worse. It was one level, with wood shingles on the exterior and green doors that marked the rooms. There were fifteen doors and a main office. An old man was easily visible through the glass windows of the office. In the parking lot was a black motorcycle. We had found Chris’ motel.

“Think we should go say hi?” Tommy asked with a mischievous grin.

“No,” I said. “I think we should get out of here before he comes outside and sees us.”

“You’re not scared of him, are you?” Tommy asked.

“Nope, but I don’t want to have another conversation with him either. Those end up with a knife to my throat.”

“Yeah…okay,” Tommy agreed dubiously.

When we got back to Sully’s, Vince was standing out front. He had his cell phone pressed against his ear and radiated concerned. He ended the call as we rode up. “You seen Sully?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “Why?”

“He said he’d be back,” Vince said. “It’s almost two, and I have to go to class…”

“You tried to call him?” I asked.

“Yeah, man, like, five times,” Vince said.

“Go to class,” I said. “I’ll find him.”

“Cool,” Vince said.

The shop went dark as Vince shut everything down and left through the back door. Tommy and I sat on the front stoop without speaking. Tommy didn’t seem concerned by Sully’s absence, but my instincts were screaming at me that something was wrong. Sully could be any number of places – on an errand for the shop, helping his mother, taking care of personal business – but I knew him better than that. He would call if he were running late. He wouldn’t neglect Vince or the shop, even in an emergency.

Two hours passed. Traffic came and went in a constant flow of motion. Rain dripped from the sullen sky. Sully didn’t come back.

Carrie returned at four-thirty. Her arms were full of books. She stopped in front of us with an excited smile. “I found the book we were searching for!” she said. “Madam George ordered more of them, and they came in today. I was able to get one. I’m going to read it right now…”

“Great,” I said.

“What’s wrong?” Carrie asked.

“Sully hasn’t come back,” Tommy replied for me.

“Well, he’s probably running errands,” Carrie said.

“Yeah,” I said, though I didn’t agree.

Carrie set her books on the ground next to me and eyed me thoughtfully. “If you’re worried, why don’t you call him?” she asked.

“I don’t have his number,” I admitted.

“Oh,” Carrie said. She frowned as she thought about it. “Where was he last?”

“Grey Haven,” I said. “Vince wasn’t able to call him after lunch.”

“So, let’s go to Grey Haven and see if he’s there,” Carrie said.

“I thought you said it was too dangerous?” I asked.

“Sully could be in danger,” Carrie said. “That matters more.”

“Okay,” I said, grateful she wasn’t going to give me a lecture.

“Let’s go,” Tommy said.

“Hang on,” Carrie said. “Let me put the books away.”

She picked the books up and ran around to the back of the building. She returned a moment later with one book tucked under her arm and her bicycle. She had pulled her hair into a tight ponytail, which made her look more like she did in the dreamworld. I knew she was prepared for a fight. I didn’t like how quickly she had gone to the thought of Sully being in trouble, but I had known it was a risk the second the shade had set eyes on him.

It felt as if it took us forever to get to Grey Haven. I imagined a dozen horrible things that had happened to Sully as I pedaled up the steep mountain. The image of the man torn apart in his living room kept popping into my head. Had the shade taken over someone else yet? Had he cornered Sully at Grey Haven through that person? Had the traitor found Sully first?

The dirt road was easier to climb with our adrenaline fueling us. We paused before the final bend in the road and got off our bikes. We hid them behind a row of trees, and then ran through the woods. Not thirty feet past the tree line, Carrie whispered at me to wait, skidding to a stop. She crouched low and crept to the edge of the woods. Tommy and I followed her, and I saw what had caught her attention. The gates were closed shut, and a black shoe poked out from the door of the guard station. The guard was on the ground, unconscious or dead.

Figuring that helping him was more important than worrying about the video cameras, we ran to the gate. Tommy, Carrie, and I scaled the black fence easily and hurried over to him. Carrie reached him first. She pushed back the door and bent down to check his pulse. As she did, I saw that the cameras had gone dark. Someone had turned them off.

“He’s alive…” she said.

“Did someone hit him?” I asked.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Carrie said. “It looks like he fell asleep.”

“Can you wake him?” I asked.

Tommy nudged the man hard with his foot, but he remained motionless, not responding at all. It was as if he hadn’t felt the touch, as if he wasn’t in his body. The idea was startling. It was like he was dreaming as dreamers did, but without the monitors and sensors. Beyond startling, the idea was scary. This was something bigger than a single guard. My stomach sank.

“Come on,” I said grimly.

I ran past the guardhouse and stopped at the first house off the main road. I went inside without knocking. As I did, I felt a wave of fatigue wash over my body. Something was wrong. The air was too thick. Ten seconds more in the room and I was going to pass out. I hurried to the windows with that foggy weariness surrounding me and opened them with trembling hands. The first gust of air against my face was a relief.

Tommy and Carrie helped me open the windows silently, their bodies held tense and ready for a fight. The air finally cleared, and we searched the house. The layout was similar to the house I shared with Carrie. I went to the first room, the room that belonged to the guardian. The man was asleep in front of the monitors. No amount of shaking or screaming in his ear woke him. The monitors in front of him were dark. Carrie and Tommy explored the other rooms in the house as I checked on him. I met them in the hall.

“They’re all asleep,” Carrie said grimly. “Their monitors are dark. They’re hooked up to them, but it’s like they…It’s like the link is broken.”

“How is that possible?” Tommy asked.

“Someone would have to cut them off somehow,” Carrie said. “I don’t know how.”

“Yeah, but on this side of the connection or…the other side?” Tommy asked.

“You’d better hope it was this side,” Carrie replied grimly.

“We should check the others…See if it’s more than one house,” I said.

We investigated a dozen houses. The scene was the same in each one. Everyone was asleep; no one responded to our touch. The unnaturally thick air was a miasma that clung to my skin as much as the bad usually memories did.

At an intersection, we split up. Carrie and Tommy went opposite ways, to continue the search, while I headed for the school. As I marched forward, it started to rain. The drops were small at first, but they quickly grew until they beat against the pavement and my skull in a painful staccato. I walked through it grimly, my stomach twisted in worried knots. I didn’t have the full picture of what was happening, but it was clearly the move the traitor and its shade had been working for. This was their plan in action. I had been too late.

Sully’s truck was in its normal spot in front of the school, and the fear I felt at the sight of it was like a kick to the stomach. I wasn’t sure if he was trapped inside or had been killed while the others slept since he wasn’t a dreamer and the traitor knew his name. But I feared not knowing more than I feared knowing the truth, so I steadied my breath and went to him.

The only people in the cafeteria were the owners of the food shops. They were all on the floor, motionless and dreaming. Sully’s boots poked out from the edge of his stall. I ran over to him, my heart pounding heavily in my chest.

A glance told me that he was alive, and I exhaled sharply, relieved and unwinding some of the fear that had made a nest in my stomach. His chest rose and fell in time to his breathing. I bent down and put a hand on his arm. His skin was clammy, and his eyes moved under his eyelids in constant motion, almost as if he was stuck in a nightmare. A sickeningly sweet aroma hovered over his face. It was foreign and strange. I bent closer, then leaned away again as the smell hit me full force. Someone had used a chemical to knock him unconscious. I shook him a couple of times, foolishly hoping he would wake because he wasn’t a dreamer, though I knew in my heart it was useless. His restless dreaming continued.

The fact that he was asleep and not dead gave me hope. There was time to find the truth. I just had to ask the right questions, follow the right path. This was action I could take, not a mystery that was unsolvable. I stood and headed for the stairs, feeling a combination of desperation and anger. I had to find out if anyone in the school was awake, and if not, I would figure a way inside to save them.

I explored the familiar rooms of the school. They were mostly empty, save for a student or two. The older students were at the back of the school, but they were comatose, too. Some of them were in the floor of the hall, while others were in classrooms designed for dreaming. They were just as unresponsive to my touch as the rest had been.

Mrs. Z.’s office held two people – Bernard and Harry. Harry was at the windows, as if he had been looking out when he had fallen unconscious. Bernard was blocking the door.

Carrie and Tommy caught up with me as I was checking on Harry. “Did you find anyone?” I asked.

“No,” Carrie said.

“I had to go to the teachers’ houses,” Tommy muttered. “I’ll never be okay again. You do not want to see Mr. Vimer’s bedroom.”

“Tell her what else…” Carrie urged him.

“Oh, right,” Tommy said. “I got to thinking and realized that someone gassed the houses. It explains the smell.”

“With anesthesia?” I asked, remembering the receipt we had found.

“Yeah,” Tommy agreed.

“Then the shade, or the traitor, cut off the link between the dreamers’ bodies and the dreams,” Carrie added.

“So, I decided to check out how the gas was introduced into the houses and I discovered something,” Tommy continued with his story. “Someone hooked a canister into the heating and cooling unit where the vents connect. When the heat came on, it blew the gas in through the vents. It’s clever because you had to be looking for it. It had to have taken the traitor a while to get the gas into everyone’s home without getting noticed.”

“Weeks, maybe longer,” Carrie said.

Understanding how everyone had been dosed wasn’t nearly as important to me as understanding how to wake them up. “But how do we return the dreamers back to their bodies?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Carrie said. “I don’t know how the connection was severed, and if I tried to do anything right now, it might make it worse.”

Tommy shrugged. He didn’t know either.

I racked my brain for an answer. It didn’t take me long to arrive at someone who seemed to know their way around the world of shades better than I did; someone who Mrs. Z. seemed to trust, even if that made her a little idiotic. He wasn’t my favorite person, and I didn’t really trust him, but there was nowhere else to go. I would have to find Chris and see if he knew what to do. It was dangerous and possibly foolish, but I didn’t have a choice. It wasn’t about my emotions of well-being. I would do whatever it took to wake the others. Even if it meant walking into a lion’s den.

“I’m going to get Chris,” I announced. “You two stay here.”

“No,” Carrie said.

“That guy’ll kill you,” Tommy added.

“Let me take care of him,” I said. “You two make sure the traitor doesn’t show up and hurt anyone else.”

They didn’t like my words, but they saw the logic. It was foolish to leave the others when there was so much we didn’t know. Someone had to stay, and I was the one who had history with Chris.

“If you’re not back in an hour, we’re coming to get you,” Carrie said.

“Fair enough,” I said, moving to the door. “I would go outside if I were you…if gas is being pumped in through the vents…I don’t want you two to get lost as well.”

Carrie and Tommy didn’t argue. They followed me down the hall and out through the front doors. The rain had started pouring in earnest, obscuring the world in front of us. It was a powerful sheet of cold liquid and it bit into my skin, keeping me grounded and focused on the work that needed to be done.

I climbed into Sully’s truck, figuring it would be better than riding my bike in the rain. The keys were in the visor and the truck started up on the first try. Tommy and Carrie huddled near the door and watched me leave with worried expressions on their faces. I watched them in the rearview mirror until the school was out of sight.

‡

Chris’ motorcycle was parked in the same spot I had seen it last when I reached the motel. He hadn’t left, which was a relief. I wasn’t sure what I would have done had I been forced to track him down. I pulled the truck up next to it and jumped out.

The rain fell around me with increased urgency, almost as if it knew my panic, as I pounded on the door to room 9. I knocked on the door a second time, and it jerked open. Chris held the door open enough to show his face, but he blocked the rest of the room from sight. Despite his grumpy expression, opening the door was a good sign. It meant that he might hear me out.

“What?” he demanded curtly.

I was just as curt as I replied with, “It’s Grey Haven. The traitor used a gas to knock everyone out and cut the link to their bodies somehow. They’re lost in the dreamworld…We don’t know how to bring them back, and as much as I hate you, I need your help.”

Chris’ eyes widened in shock, then narrowed in anger. He held the door open wider, inviting me inside. I hesitated. I still didn’t trust him. He was too much a stranger – one that had almost killed me several times. He made a sound of impatience at my hesitation, obviously annoyed that I was hung up on my doubt when there were bigger things to worry about, and I rolled my eyes at him.

As I stepped inside, I was immediately drawn to a bed that ran perpendicular to the door. It was occupied – by Mrs. Z. I did a double take and felt adrenaline start to pump through my veins in a fight or flight response.

Mrs. Z.’s eyes were closed, and sensors were attached to her head. She was lying on top of the covers, her hands primly crossed over her stomach. She was wearing dressy clothes, the kind of clothes she wore when working. I had found her, but it wasn’t the kind of discovery I was expecting. I turned to Chris with the sinking suspicion that I had made a mistake. I was surprised that his knife wasn’t already at my throat.

“It’s not what you think,” Chris said, noticing my tense body. “She came to me for help.”

“What’s she doing?” I asked, edging away from him.

“She went in to retrieve the possessed guardian,” Chris replied. “I tried to talk her out of it, as it was clearly a trap, but she wouldn’t listen.”

I frowned at him. His explanation sounded logical, which was annoying. “Why would she come to you?” I asked.

“Because she knows I’m not the traitor,” Chris replied. “And she didn’t know who else she could trust.”

He went to the chair that was set up next to the bed. He pulled a wallet and a phone out from the cushion. Next to the chair was the small book I had seen him carrying in town. It was the book he had purchased from Madam George; it was the same book Carrie had so recently purchased. I pointed at it. “Why do you have that then?” I asked.

“The same reason the traitor tried to destroy it,” Chris said. He picked it up and tossed it at me. “Page 153,” he added.

I flipped to the page and saw an artist’s drawing of Bastian. My blood ran cold as I took in his magnetic eyes and axe-like features. The book didn’t have his name, just a general description of the nightmares Bastian could bring. It talked about his ability to find his way into any dream, even if the person wasn’t susceptible to shades, and his ability to open doors he shouldn’t be able to open. It went on to explain his affinity for keeping weaker shades as pets and the hunt for power that had followed his rise.

I finally understood why the traitor didn’t want the book found, but I wasn’t comforted. The fact that Bastian had found his way into a book about shades made him seem more powerful and infinitely more frightening. He was a legend, and I was thinking about facing off against him.

“Do you know if the equipment at the school is still working?” Chris asked as I tried to keep the fear from showing on my face.

“No,” I said.

“We’ll have to risk it,” he said.

“Risk what exactly?” I asked.

“You have to go in,” Chris said. “It’s the only way to bring the others back. You have to kill Bastian.”

“That sounds like a job for the dude who hunts shades for a living,” I said.

“Do you know how to pull me out of the dreams, or open doors, or do any of the things a guardian does?” Chris asked. I didn’t reply. He knew the answer. “Exactly,” Chris said. “I also made a promise to Mrs. Z. to watch her,” he added. “So, you go in or no one does.”

“Carrie and Tommy go where I go,” I said.

“It’ll probably take all three of you anyway, if you survive at all,” Chris said. “With a little luck, you won’t die immediately. Help me with Mrs. Z.”

He gently picked her up, cautious of the sensors. I followed their path down and saw that they were attached to a monitor smaller than my hand. It was dark, closed off from prying eyes. I didn’t understand how he was monitoring her when he couldn’t see anything, but I didn’t ask him. It didn’t really matter right now, and I had bigger problems.

I slipped the book into my pocket and opened the door for him. He ordered me to pick up a black bag near the door as he passed by. The zipper was undone, and I saw that it held medical supplies and small vials of clear liquid. I snatched it up obligingly and followed him to the truck.

Chris carefully placed Mrs. Z into the cab, then clambered into the driver’s side. I got in on the passenger’s side, sensing it would be a bad idea to argue with his choice to drive. He would get us to Grey Haven – I had no doubt about that. The expression on his face suggested he would crawl if he had to.

He drove just as recklessly as I had on my way to his hotel. We didn’t speak; neither of us was eager for a conversation with the other, though I had a dozen questions. I kept my arm around Mrs. Z., feeling weird about her being so close yet so far away. Her presence made me wonder how difficult it was to pull the guardian out of the possession. Chris had made it sound close to impossible. He had also unintentionally made it sound like something bigger was going on. I knew it had to be for her to go in alone with someone like Chris monitoring her instead of the hundreds of guardians available at Grey Haven. I mulled over her trust in him but knew I wouldn’t be getting the answer to that anytime soon.

Tommy and Carrie were in the same spot when we returned. They were shocked when they saw Mrs. Z. in Chris’ arms. “She’s dreaming,” I said. “Chris is watching out for her while she tries to help the guardian that was possessed...”

“Go find cots, monitors, and sensors for you three,” Chris commanded us in his abrupt tone. “Then bring them to Mrs. Z.’s office.” He kicked the front door open and disappeared inside without waiting for us to reply.

“Sure thing, boss,” Tommy replied in a sarcastic voice as the door closed, shooting off an irritated salute.

“What’s going on?” Carrie asked, more curious than irritated.

“He’s going to send us in to kill Bastian,” I said. “He says it’s the only way to wake everyone up.”

“Why doesn’t he do it?” Carrie asked.

“Because we don’t know how to be guardians and, apparently, he does. He also said that he made a promise to watch out for Mrs. Z.,” I said.

“Oh,” Carrie said.

“Besides, I think I would rather go in. Sitting around isn’t really my thing,” I said.

“And you’re going to trust that guy to be our guardian?” Tommy asked, face twisted with skepticism.

“I don’t know if I would call it trust…but I can’t see any other option. Did you have a better idea?” I asked.

“We could go in without him,” Tommy said.

“And what if the traitor comes around and unplugs us?” I asked. “Then we’ll be trapped like the others.”

“What if he’s the traitor?” Tommy asked.

“Does he seem like the type to go around burning books and sneaking behind everyone’s backs?” I asked. “He’s more of a punch you when you’re looking kind of guy.”

“Julie’s right. We have to go in, and we have to trust him not to kill us. There’s no other choice,” Carrie said.

“Fine,” Tommy said, though he didn’t look happy he had been overruled.

“Let’s go find what he needs,” I said. “I don’t want to make him wait.”

“Yeah, because he’ll kill us if he gets cranky,” Tommy muttered.

It didn’t take us long to find the things Chris had listed. One of the classrooms had enough monitors, sensors, and cots for thirty people. We stacked what we needed on the cots, then we each pushed one through the halls. The stairs were a problem, but Carrie found a lift big enough for one person at a time. Tommy was the last one up, muttering to himself about dumb plans. Together, we pushed the cots to Mrs. Z.’s door.

The door was open, and Bernard had been shifted none-too-gently against the wall so that he wasn’t blocking the path. Harry was in the same position I had left him in, and Mrs. Z. was on the sofa. Her hands were crossed over her stomach in that calm repose. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought her dead.

Chris gestured for us to drag the cots to the middle of the room and pulled the bottles of clear liquid out of his bag. He then took a cloth and poured the liquid on to it. “Set up the monitors,” he commanded. We did what he asked, then he moved from one sensor to the next, applying the clear liquid. “Not all of the dreams you run into will have shades,” he told us. “Some will be normal dreams. It’s up to you to figure out which is which and deal with it. The dreamers who have been around longer are likely to have more shades after them…They’ve attracted more attention with their work. Some of the dreamers might even be wandering around. They’ll help you if they can. I’ll be able to monitor you and provide the occasional doorway, but it’s up to you to find your way from one dream to the next and fight the shades to clear the path.”

“We haven’t been trained to make doors yet,” Carrie told him.

“Welcome to your crash course then,” Chris said. “You’ll figure it out. Just follow your instincts.”

“My instinct is telling me not to trust you,” Tommy said.

Chris shrugged indifferently. “Ready?” he asked.

We nodded in unison. Chris gestured us to the cots. As we hooked up the sensors, he had another piece of advice for us. “When you meet Bastian, use fire to kill him,” Chris said. “It’s the only way.”

“You think we’ll find him?” Carrie asked.

“He’ll find you,” Chris warned ominously.

Carrie and Tommy closed their eyes. I felt the sensors urging me to sleep, but I had one last warning for Chris. I fought the feeling of sleepiness and groggily searched out Chris’ blue eyes. “If my friends get hurt because of something you do, I will not stop until I have made you pay,” I threatened.

“I believe you,” Chris said.

I closed my eyes. The last image I had before I fell asleep was of Chris’ blue eyes watching me with a curious mixture of irritation and fear. Then, I was pulled into a world of grey.