Fearless Dreamer Read online

  He slid me out of the car and once again cradled me in his arms as easily as if I were a baby. I squinted up at him as the pain from the light seared my skull. His sun bleached hair matched the hair on his knuckles. His chin was stubbly with light reddish brown hair and his features were strong and angular. I was shocked - he was so young. He must’ve been around nineteen. His bright eyes looked back at me beneath long red lashes.

  “Sorry… you’re freezing. But we had to get you out of there fast.”

  He swaddled me in a soft fleece blanket. But I didn’t want it. I wanted to be home. Now I was confused. Did this man steal me from my bed while I was sleeping? Did he really kidnap me? Or did I still simply need to wake up.

  “What’d you do to me?” my raspy voice seemed detached from my body.

  “You’ve never been outside - the light hurts your eyes.”

  The man’s words were crazy. I was always outside. So this was obviously just a continuation of my dream. But why wouldn’t it end?

  I peered through wet lashes, paying for every painful second. We were on a dead end street in an industrial part of town. There was an acrid smell to the air. We must’ve been far away from my home; I’d never been here. The concrete buildings looked abandoned, and there were no people or cars in sight.

  “You alright?” he asked.

  I looked up into the man’s face. His eyes were narrowed with what, unbelievably, seemed like concern.

  “Is this a kidnapping?” I croaked.

  “In a way.”

  “My parents… they’ll give you whatever you want… ”

  “It’s not that kind of kidnapping.” The man glanced around. “We’ve got to go. My name’s Charles, by the way.”

  I thought of what Troy would say about the meaning of that name and couldn’t help murmuring, “…masculine and powerful.”

  Charles grinned, “That easy to tell, huh?”

  Holding me in one massive arm, Charles leaned into the back of the car and pulled up the seat cushion, revealing a hiding space large enough for one person. Charles started to ease me into the gap. No, oh no.

  “…Don’t… please…”

  “Sorry about this, but you’ll be out soon,” Charles said. “You’ll be safer this way. Out of sight.”

  Over Charles’ shoulder I glimpsed the sky. Gray. Overcast. Its dull brightness sent more daggers into my eyes. My nose stung from the acid smell in the air. I wanted to fight him, but I was too weak.

  As he closed the seat cushion over the hiding place, blackness surrounded me, dense and alive. The blackness kept pressing in. I was having a panic attack, breathing faster and faster. My air was almost gone. I was growing faint. I was going to explode. I was going to die.

  Stop it, I told myself. Stop it.

  There was enough air, I had to remember that. At least I had enough air for now. But I wasn’t sure how long I’d be trapped. I had to figure some way out. But that would never happen if I didn’t calm down and think.

  The hole I was lying in spanned the length of the back seat. It wasn’t deep, though. My face was so close to the bottom of the car’s seat, I could feel it lightly brush my skin with every bounce.

  At first the car started and stopped like it was passing through a city. But after a while we must have made it to a more open area because the car didn’t stop at all.

  In spite of myself, the soft hum of the engine and the gentle rocking motion began to soothe me. I felt sleepy. But if this was a dream why did I feel like that?

  And if it wasn’t a dream?

  I pushed that thought out of my mind and fought against the urge to close my eyes. I had to get out of this space, and out of this car, whether it was real or not.

  I focused on lifting my arms - too hard. My hands, even a foot, a finger. But the only thing that moved was a tear. It crept down the side of my face. I couldn’t even brush it away.

  Just then the car stopped and the engine shut off. I held my breath. The slam of a car door, then another, and after a moment, the lid to my hiding place cracked open.

  “I’m going to pull up the top and lift you out,” Charles’ voice drifted down to me. “Remember, shut your eyes again or the light’s really going to hurt.”

  I was not about to take orders from Charles, I thought angrily as the lid swung up. Then the afternoon sun sliced across my face. My eyes were on fire. I moaned.

  “Told you so,” Charles had the nerve to say as he lifted me.

  I couldn’t stand the pain of keeping my eyes open. I had to shut them again as Charles carried me inside a building.

  In the distance, I could hear other voices, but Charles was moving away from them, up a staircase and through another door.

  “You can try opening your eyes now,” Charles said as he set me down on what felt like a soft bed. “The shades and the curtains are drawn, so the light won’t hurt as much.”

  I still wasn’t happy doing what Charles told me to do, but I couldn’t stand not seeing where I was. So I opened my eyes slightly. There was an immediate ache, but to my relief, no terrible stabbing pain.

  There were heavy blue curtains covering two windows along the far wall. The room was dark. Where was I?

  I heard a faint tapping sound and looked toward it. Charles was flicking his finger against an ominously large needle filled with a milky fluid.

  “What are you doing?” I said, although since my dad was a doctor I knew that Charles was making sure there were no air bubbles in the syringe. I also knew the syringe must be meant for me.

  “Why am I here? What do you want from me?” I went on. I was trying anything I could to distract Charles from sticking whatever was in that needle in my arm.

  But Charles was not about to be distracted. He lifted my wrist.

  “Please. Just tell me why I’m here. Please.”

  “There’ll be lots of time to talk,” Charles replied. “After you wake up.”

  The needle pierced my skin. My arm jerked. I felt a warm drowsiness spreading through my body almost immediately. Charles was standing over me, watching me. And I couldn’t even move.

  All I could do was let the drug work on me, wait as its steady advancing darkness snapped to black.

  CHAPTER THREE

  It was over. The dream let me go at last. Birds were chirping. I was warm under my covers. I’d have breakfast, go to school, laugh with my friends; all was right in the world again.

  How could I have ever wanted to see how far that dream would go? Even if I never went to sleep again, I’d find a way to stop that dream for good.

  But for now, it was a new day. Maybe I’d see that cute guy from the park on my way to school. I yawned contentedly.

  But when I opened my eyes, I wasn’t home safe in my own bed. It wasn’t morning and time for school -

  Late afternoon sunlight outlined the edges of the kidnapper’s dark blue curtains. I was still trapped.

  I struggled to get out of bed, but my body was paralyzed. I wanted to throw up. But of course, I couldn’t even do that.

  Oh my God. I really couldn’t move. This wasn’t a dream. And I was in serious trouble.

  My eyes darted around the room, I panicked. And then I saw - her.

  There was a pretty young woman not much older than me sitting on a straight backed chair against the far wall. She was watching me, silent.

  “Who are you?” I kept my tone even; I didn’t want her to know how scared I was.

  One good thing, my voice sounded almost normal, the raspy croak was gone.

  “I’m Blair,” she said, her hands folded on her lap.

  Her shoulder-length blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she was wearing a long flowered dress that seemed too large for her.

  “I’m here to help you learn to walk,” she said, her voice so soft it was almost a whisper.

  My head was spinning. This was real. They’d drugged me. They really did kidnap me. And they did something to me so I couldn’t move. My parents must be going cra
zy by now trying to find me.

  I glanced at her. She was still sitting there, waiting for me to say something. What did these people want from me? My heart thudded in my chest. I had to find out, so I played along.

  “Learn to walk, great,” I managed at last. I took a deep breath, to calm myself. I had to stay calm.

  It wasn’t going to do me any good to fight my kidnappers. I’d have to at least appear to cooperate so I could escape. And being able to walk was a first step. Right now I couldn’t even move my legs. Before that thought sent me into a new wave of panic, I asked as casually as I could “So what kind of drug did that guy Charles give me? Why can’t I move?”

  Blair smiled a sweet smile, “It’s not the drug. You can’t move at all?”

  I tilted my head slightly side ways and down; the same two movements I could make in that horrible dream. My dream. I was so confused. Where did it leave off and this real-life nightmare begin?

  “Don’t worry,” Blair pulled her chair close to my bed. She picked up my limp hand and massaged my fingers. “You’ll be better soon.”

  Her hands were soft and strong. Despite everything her touch felt good against my own useless fingers. At first I couldn’t feel anything but Blair’s touch, but then – my words flew out in spite of myself. “They’re tingling!”

  Blair just smiled.

  As the tingling grew, so did another sensation. Warmth surged through my fingers as if they had been stone cold dead and I’d never realized it before. It was such an intense feeling, I couldn’t think about anything else. For a moment I forgot how frightened I was.

  But all too soon Blair stopped rubbing my hands. She smiled again. I bet she’s always smiling, I thought distractedly.

  “Wriggle your fingers,” she commanded, her soft voice tinged with a surprising edge of steel.

  And without even thinking - I did.

  Then she began to knead my whole hand. The same warmth moved from my fingers into my palm and the top of my hand.

  If Blair’s massages had the same effect on my legs maybe I’d be on my feet and out of here in no time. Soon, I promised myself, I’ll be out of here soon. I had to hold on to that. I’ll get out of this, whatever this was, and find my way home.

  There was a knock on the door.

  The warmth spreading through my hand vanished as Blair gently laid my arm down on the bed.

  A man walked into the room. He must’ve been in his mid-twenties but there was something about him that made him seem much older, maybe it was the way he carried himself - like he was in charge. Blair leaned back against the wall, deferring to him. He moved over to the side of my bed.

  “Hello, Elle. I’m Jeff,” he said, taking Blair’s chair.

  He was tall, with a short neat brown beard the same color as his hair. His eyes were intense and green, cats’ eyes. And that’s who he must be, I thought, the top cat.

  “Welcome to the farmhouse,” Jeff rested his gaze on me, taking me in carefully.

  I made no reply.

  “How’re you feeling? You must have a lot of questions.”

  I had tons, starting with why these people had taken me, what they’d done to paralyze me, and why they were helping me move again like they were some kind of heroes or something. So yeah, I had questions. But why would he answer them? And if he did, why would he tell me the truth?

  I started with something I thought he might not lie about. “What do you mean by the farmhouse?”

  “It’s where we brought you after we rescued you.”

  “Kidnapped me, you mean,” I blurted out, “and I want to go home.” So much for playing along. I’d have to do better.

  Jeff’s cat eyes flickered before he spoke again. “There’s no good way to tell you this, Elle. You can’t go home.”

  In an instant, I felt the same panic I’d had hidden away in Charles’ car. As if I’d run out of air.

  Jeff went on. “We didn’t just take you away from your family. You’re not just in a different place; you’re in a different time. One that you would know as the future.”

  “The future?” These people were crazy.

  “Years ago, our government responded to a domestic attack and that started a civil war. It’s been going on for a long time, and there’ve been a lot of wounded.”

  What was he talking about? I glared at Jeff. He didn’t seem to notice.

  “You see, there’re so many wounded every day, there was never enough blood donors to meet the demand.”

  “What - what does this have to do with me?”

  Jeff glanced down at his hands. I saw a look of disgust pass across his face.

  “It seems that our government has been experimenting for quite a while,” Jeff replied slowly. “The war has become quite lucrative for the companies that run this country now. They developed a way to deal with the blood shortage. A terrible way. They grow humans. People whose only purpose in life is to provide that blood.”

  Grow people? For blood? That was truly crazy.

  But the horrible images of those snake-like tubes filled with red liquid – the ones I’d seen in my dream - rose unwanted in my mind.

  No, I countered silently. Impossible.

  “The companies are convinced it’s humane, thanks to highly advanced computers. They use injected micro-chips to create lives for the people they grow. Happy lives. So their minds are content while their bodies provide a continuous supply of blood. To those in power, it’s been a wonderful solution to an overwhelming problem.”

  “No,” I shouted. That was impossible.

  “I’m sorry, it’s true. They’re called universal donors. You’re one of them.”

  “That’s crazy!”

  Jeff went on as if I hadn’t said a word.

  “That’s why you haven’t been able to move since you got here. Your body never moved, and right now it’s too weak to do so. Your muscles need to be activated. We’ve learned to be very good at that here.”

  “No,” I insisted again dully, “You took me from my parents. They’ll find me.”

  Jeff shook his head.

  “The police will put you in jail for the rest of your lives,” I wanted to scare them to their senses.

  Jeff just sat there for a moment, and finally he spoke. “Can you move your head, Elle?”

  I’d told him they could be put in jail for the rest of their lives, and this was how he responded?

  Jeff glanced at Blair. She nodded, and moved next to me, lifting my covers.

  I tried to jerk away but my body refused to respond. Instead I could only lie there helplessly as Blair pulled back the sheet and lifted the lower edge of the blue-checked pajama top someone had dressed me in while I was unconscious.

  “Universal donor blood is taken out through what would have been the belly button, Elle, except once a donor is unplugged, the naval closes up,” Jeff said.

  I looked down, surprised to see that my stomach was bandaged. Blair gently peeled off the white gauze to reveal a raw red wound where my belly button would have been, already scabbing over. Tears came to my eyes. What did they do to me?

  “I know it’s a shock,” Blair said replacing the bandage.

  “You need time to adjust. I’m sorry, Elle,” Jeff said, and his voice grew softer, “the truth is you have no family to go back to. They’re donors, just like you. You weren’t kidnapped. You were rescued. From what’s called a donor harvesting station.”

  “No,” I heard myself say again, my voice less audible than when I first tried to speak. Now my voice sounded tiny, like when I was a little girl cuddled in my mom’s lap. Only my mom’s lap was gone. My mom was gone. According to these people, she didn’t really exist.

  I couldn’t allow myself to believe their stories. Nobody in their right mind would believe I was something called a universal donor who lived some time in the future.

  But what about the room I’d seen with all the bodies in those tanks? It was just a nightmare, I told myself. They must have kidnapped me bef
ore I woke up. It was just a coincidence that what they were telling me fit in with my dream, or maybe I’d talked about my dream when they’d drugged me. They could tell me any gruesome tale they wanted, but it didn’t make it true.

  Yet no matter how much I didn’t want to believe them, tears rolled down my cheeks. And I couldn’t even brush them away.

  I could hardly listen as Jeff explained that I was rescued by a group that was dedicated to saving universal donors, dedicated to helping me. Liars, I thought weakly. Liars.

  Finally, Jeff got to his feet. “We know this is a lot to take in.” It surprised me to see he looked truly sorry. “But it’s best to hear everything right away, so you can think about it. We find that the sooner you know, the easier it becomes to adjust.”

  I would never adjust. I clamped my mouth tight. They were trying to brainwash me.

  “We want you to know you’re safe here and that now you have a real home.”

  I didn’t bother to reply. I already had a home, and it wasn’t here. I watched Jeff leave through my tears.

  Blair took my useless hand in hers. “Don’t worry, it gets better. It’s always a shock at first. For everyone.”

  I looked up from my fog, “There are others?”

  “Oh yes, there’s lots of fighting and they need lots of blood. You’re far from the only donor we’ve rescued.”

  I winced at the word ‘donor’ as Blair pulled a flowered handkerchief from her pocket and carefully blotted my tears. The fabric was soft, but the smell - “What is that?”

  Blair smiled, “Lavender.”

  I’d smelled lavender and it never had an odor as strong as this. “That’s not lavender. That’s awful.”

  Blair tucked her handkerchief away again.

  “I forgot it was scented. I try to be careful around new donors.”

  I wished she would stop saying that word.

  “One of the things a computer can’t give you is a good sense of smell. So you’ll notice a lot of new smells now that you’re in the real world. They’ll seem really strong at first. But eventually I think you’ll like most of them.”

  I’m not going to like anything, I promised myself angrily. I’m going to get better, I’m going to escape and call my parents, and everything would be right again.