Dream Tunnel (5 page)

18

C
onroe carried her breakfast tray over to Crane’s table, where he was sitting alone. “Good morning.”

Crane didn’t look up. “Morning.” He appeared to be miffed at her.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to your room last night, I—”

“I stayed awake half the night waiting for you!”

“So, you didn’t hear what happened?” she asked.

“No. What?”

“Tonya and her gang came into my room after Lights Out and attacked me.”

He sat up erect. “Did they hurt you?”

“Not really. They held me down while Tonya put duct tape over my mouth. She was gonna cut off all my hair.”

“What?” Crane jumped up from his chair, sneering at the back of Tonya’s head across the room.

“I’m okay. Sit down, please.”

He sat down but continued to keep one eye on Tonya.

“Crane?”

He finally returned his attention to Conroe.

“I got away,” she said. “They didn’t hurt me. And then Old Cracker came in.”

“Thank goodness.”

“Yeah, they’re all in trouble.”

“Then why aren’t they in Solitary?”

“Because she didn’t catch them in the act. They’re in trouble for being out of their rooms after Lights Out. I guess she just took away some privileges.”

“Probably something that won’t even affect them—like taking away their toothpaste.”

“
Crane
.” She laughed.

“Well, why didn’t you tell Old Cracker what they did to you?”

“I don’t know,” she replied. “I guess I figured if I cut them some slack, they would quit bothering me.”

“I don’t think it works that way.”

“So, you’re ready to go into the Dream Tunnel again?”

“Sure. I was ready last night.”

“Okay, but this time, no falling off cliffs.”

“It’s a deal,” he said. “That was pretty scary.”

“So, same time, same place as yesterday—during recess?”

“Perfect.” He took a bite of his scrambled eggs. “You gonna come watch me play basketball this morning? I’m eating extra food to make me stronger for the game.” He wadded up a slice of bacon and stuffed it into his mouth.

“You said you were no good at basketball. Were you just being modest?”

“I’m
not
very good, and Coach doesn’t usually give me much playing time. But today, two of our guys are in Solitary, and since we only have seven players, he’ll have to let me play the whole game.”

“Okay, sure, I’ll come watch you. It’ll be fun.”

19

C
rane’s team, the Phillies, would be playing the Bulldogs, which was made up of boys from another children’s home in the North Houston area.

Crane followed his coach and teammates into the gym. He checked the stands, spotted Conroe on the third row, and waved.

Conroe stood and waved back to him. “Go, Crane!”

One of his teammates teased, “Oh, look—Crane has a fan—and it’s a
girl
. Go, Crane, go.”

Another said, “Hey, Crane, here’s your chance to show her you’ve got game.”

They all laughed at him. But it didn’t bother him today. He had a girlfriend—at least that was how he thought of her—a beautiful, exciting girlfriend that liked to dream with him. He was amazed at how quickly he had become so close to her.

After a ten-minute warm up, the horn blew and the two teams huddled around their respective coaches.

Crane couldn’t believe he was a
starter
—for the first time in his life.

Coach assigned him the jump ball responsibility—his first test. He failed it miserably, being out-jumped by a guy who was four inches shorter.

At first, his teammates ignored him. They wouldn’t give him the ball, no matter how much he begged for it. But during a timeout, Coach told them to start passing to him. Even though he was taller than anybody else on his team, Coach had put him in the forward position instead of playing center, which was okay with him since he was no good under the basket.

Crane’s first four jump-shot attempts were ten-footers that either bounced off the rim or missed it altogether. The boy guarding him, Number 44, was the same height as Crane but much stockier.

The Phillies were up six points, so Coach instructed, “Get it to Crane.”

Crane wished they would go back to ignoring him. This was just too much pressure. He tried not to think about how stupid he was looking in front of Conroe.

He decided to stay farther back from the basket. Maybe then his teammates would not pass him the ball. He was wrong. This time he was fifteen feet out. Number 44 stepped back from him, daring him to take the shot. He did, and it popped the net.

“Yes!” Conroe screamed from the stands. “Way to go, Crane!”

Crane stared at the basket, in disbelief that the ball had passed through the net.

Number 44 said, “Lucky shot.”

The next time down, Crane got the ball again—at the same spot.

Number 44 grinned, stepping back. “Go ahead. I dare you.”

Another perfect fifteen-foot jumper.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” screamed Conroe, with an odd inflection—as though she’d never said the words before in her life and was simply mimicking what she had heard somebody else in the stands yelling.

Crane smiled and nodded his head.

As both teams ran down to the Bulldogs’ end of the court, Number 44 moved in close to Crane. “Try that again next time down and see what happens.” He elbowed Crane in the ribs.

One of the Bulldogs hit a three-pointer.

Back down the court, the Phillies passed the ball to Crane again.

This time when Crane was about to take the shot, Number 44 ran at him and knocked him down before he could release the ball. Crane hit the floor hard.

The foul was called, and Crane limped to the free-throw line. His back and elbows were aching. He missed both shots and knew his shooting streak was over.

The next few times the Phillies had the ball, they didn’t pass it to Crane at all. He checked the stands. Conroe was still there, but he was sure she was no longer impressed with his playing. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. He began to ask for the ball—and when his teammates still wouldn’t pass it to him, he began to demand it. Finally, the ball came to him.

Number 44 backed off a few feet, but Crane knew that if he attempted a jump shot, the guy would plow him down. That made him mad. He knew he needed to take a deep breath and relax—to cool down. But he rejected that thought as his anger continued to well up. Instead of taking the jump shot, he put the ball on the floor, dribbling toward the basket for a layup.

Number 44 positioned himself to block Crane’s path to the basket and take the charge. Crane could either pass the ball to someone else, pull up for the jump shot, or continue toward the basket, knowing full well he would be called for an offensive foul. It was too late for a change in course. Crane picked up more speed, running at his defender with all his might. Just before he reached him, he leaped into the air—his anger thrusting him higher than he’d ever jumped before. He let out a ferocious, primal growl as his left knee popped the defender square in the jaw, slamming him to the floor. Crane’s body continued to float toward the basket.

Both teams and all the spectators gaped as Crane’s right hand raised the ball a full foot above the rim and dunked it through the net. The ball fired straight down into Number 44’s face, hammering the back of his head into the hardwood.

When Crane’s shoes touched the floor, he heard the referees’ whistles blowing wildly. Yes, he was being called for an offensive foul, and the basket wouldn’t count. So what? He didn’t care.

The Philly fans cheered.

The Bulldog fans, what few there were, booed.

Number 44 jumped up and pushed Crane. “I’m gonna kill you!”

“Take it easy,” Crane said, his anger subsiding.

“Sure, I’ll take it easy—after I do this.” He punched Crane in the stomach, knocking the breath out of him.

Crane’s blood boiled. He swung at Number 44 with blind rage, connecting with his nose. The boy’s nose began to gush blood, and regret overwhelmed Crane. “I’m sorry, man, really. Are you okay?”

He glanced over at Conroe. She seemed stunned.

Had his terrible display of anger ruined his chances with her?

20

A
t afternoon recess, Conroe walked around the yard by herself, thinking about the basketball game that morning. She had seen Crane lose his temper before—many times. It was one of the few things she did not like about him. But to be in the same room with him when it happened was even more ugly than watching it on the time travel computer.

They had planned to take another Dream Tunnel trip during recess. She had decided it was time to tell him the truth. Now she wasn’t so sure—about anything.

“That was quite a show your boyfriend put on this morning.”

Conroe turned around. It was Tonya and the gang. “Yeah.”

“A day or two in Solitary will do him good. Maybe it’ll make a man out of him.”

Conroe started to walk away.

“Hang on, chicky.” Tonya grabbed her shoulder.

Conroe pulled away. “Keep your hands off me.”

“Whoa,” Kelsey said. “She’s a tough talker.”

The other girls laughed.

“Let’s see if she can back it up with her fists,” Tonya taunted.

“Do we really have to do this again?” Conroe asked.

“You cheated last time. I wasn’t ready.”

“I see. And now you’re ready?” Conroe asked, pointing to the three girls standing behind Tonya.

“No, this is just between you and me. Back off, girls.”

The other three stepped back.

“Okay, now,” Tonya said, “let’s do it.”

“If we must,” Conroe replied, closing her eyes.

“What are you doing? Open your eyes. This is gonna be a fair fight.”

“No, I’m afraid it’s not. So, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Open your eyes!”

“I’m ready,” Conroe said. “Go ahead—give me your best shot.”

“No problem.” Tonya took a swing at Conroe’s jaw.

With her eyes still closed, Conroe moved her head slightly as Tonya’s fist approached her face, evading impact by mere millimeters.

“Lucky move!” Tonya spat, following up with the other fist.

Again, Conroe moved her head to the side, avoiding injury.

“How are you doing that?” Tonya raised her foot and jabbed it at Conroe’s stomach.

Conroe hopped back, out of Tonya’s range. Her eyes were still closed.

Somebody in Tonya’s gang giggled.

“Shut up!” Tonya looked back to see who was laughing at her.

All three were stifling laughter.

“Alright, I’m tired of messing around.” She yelled like a banshee as she ran toward Conroe at full speed.

Conroe sidestepped her, eyes still closed.

Tonya tripped and fell on the ground, face first.

The other three could no longer contain their laughter.

Tonya ignored them. “How are you doing that with your stinking eyes closed?”

“It’s called Gomwei.”

“What is that—some martial arts crap?”

“Something like that.”

“You can open your eyes now,” Tonya said. “I’m not gonna hit you.”

“That’s for sure,” Kelsey jabbed.

Conroe opened her eyes.

Tonya took a swing at her nose.

Conroe stopped the fist with the palm of her hand, within two inches of her nose. “You lied.”

“So?”

Conroe twisted Tonya’s fist sharply, rotating it 180 degrees.

Tonya screeched and fell to her knees.

“Do not bother me or Crane anymore. Understood?”

“Yes, yes—just let go.”

21

I
t was nearly midnight—one hour past Lights Out. Crane lay in his bed, wide awake, thinking about Conroe. He had never met anyone like her. She was strong and smart and pretty, and when he was with her, more than anything, he wanted to hold her in his arms, to kiss her. Every time he lay down to dream with her, holding her hand, he could feel the blood in his veins pulsing against the blood in hers.

But because he had let his anger get out of control on the basketball court today, he would be locked in his room for three days. Why didn’t Old Cracker send him to Solitary? He wondered if she had been there watching the game and had seen for herself that Number 44 was a bully. Maybe she figured the kid had it coming. Regardless, she couldn’t allow Crane to act inappropriately and go completely unpunished.

Being locked in his room wasn’t nearly as bad as Solitary. At least here he could play his guitar and sing all day. He hadn’t even bothered to change into his pajamas. He wasn’t sleepy anyway, having taken a long nap that afternoon. Being locked in wouldn’t have been a punishment at all before he met Conroe. But now it was different. Anything that kept him away from her was torture. He had played his guitar for much of the day, even writing a song about how much he missed her.

Crane heard someone outside his door, trying to unlock it. But who would come to his room at this hour, other than Old Cracker? And why would she come, unless she suspected he was breaking some rule?

The door opened, and light from the hallway flooded his room. Conroe was standing in the doorway.

He sat up in bed. “Conroe?”

“Shush.” She stepped inside and closed the door. The room went black again.

“How did you—?”

“Magic.” She sat down on the side of his bed.

“I wish I could see you.”

A flashlight beam appeared under her chin. “How’s this?”

“Where’d you get that?”

“I have my sources.” She smiled. “I thought I might need it to wake you up.”

“I wasn’t sleeping.”

She shined the light on him. “You’re not even dressed for bed.”

“Yeah, I was just lying here feeling sorry for myself because I wasn’t gonna get to see you for three days—thanks to me acting like a complete idiot on the basketball court today.”

“I thought you were pretty cool. You made some great shots, and when you dunked over that big guy—it was amazing. You were literally flying.”

“Yeah, I surprised myself—I don’t know how I did that. But I shouldn’t have taken a swing at him.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” she agreed. “You looked mad—crazy mad. That was kind of scary.”

“I know. Sometimes my adrenaline kicks in and I just go nuts,” he said.

“Is that what you call it—
going nuts?
”

“Yeah—and when I do, it feels like nothing can stop me. I feel super powerful. Of course, I’m really not, but that’s what it feels like. And then I do stupid things, like punching that guy. Losing my temper is what got me kicked out of my last foster home. I’ve got to learn to keep it under control.”

“He
did
deserve it, though.”

“Yeah, he did,” Crane replied. “Are you here so we can go to the Dream Tunnel?”

“Are you up for it?”

“Sure, why not? Hey, let’s take the flashlight with us.”

“We can’t do that—it won’t work,” she said. “But we don’t need it anymore, right? We know what we’re doing.”

“I guess so.”

Conroe turned off the flashlight and rolled it under the bed. She lay down alongside Crane and took his hand. “Okay, just relax.”

Crane felt her soft, wonderful hand in his. He would go anywhere with her. He closed his eyes, and they opened immediately. “How did we get into the dream so fast this time?”

“You’re learning. It gets easier with experience. Run!”

He followed her, running across the bridge before the fog could dissipate, using the handrails for guidance.

Once they reached the other side, they didn’t even wait for the bridge to collapse behind them. She took his hand, and they ran into the Dream Tunnel.

“I still wish we could bring a flashlight,” he said.

“Isn’t it enough they we’re in it
together?
”

“Well, sure, but—” He tripped and lost his grip on Conroe’s hand, falling on the rocky ground.

“Crane, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think so. These rocks are sharp, though. I think I cut my hand.”

“Hurry, get up! We’re already getting some light.”

“Well, that’s a
good
thing, isn’t it? Then we’ll be able to see the—
spiders!
” He jumped to his feet. “There are spiders all over the place.”

“And I think they’re poisonous,” she said.

“You
think?
”

“The wind is picking up. We’ve got to go now. Run!”

She grabbed his hand, and they ran toward the light.

The wind grew stronger, slowing their pace until they were barely moving forward.

“Keep pushing,” she yelled over the roaring wind. “We have to make it out of here.”

“Or what? Can’t we go back?”

“No, it’s too late! The back of the tunnel is already closed off. We have to go out this end.”

“Let’s just wake up,” he suggested.

“We can’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“Run, Crane! Run as fast as you can.
Go nuts!
”

Crane took a deep breath and by sheer will pumped up the adrenaline in his body to a monstrous level. He howled like a maniac, running into the hurricane-force wind with all his might, holding tightly to Conroe’s hand.

She screamed, pushing her leg muscles beyond their limits.

The wind blew even harder, threatening to blow them off their feet. They continued to push, leaning into the wind, into the blinding light.

Just when Crane thought his heart might explode from the stress, they fell out onto the grass.

They lay spent, looking up at a clear blue sky.

After he had caught his breath and regained his composure, Crane sat up. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Conroe sat up and took both of his hands in hers. “I’ve got to tell you something.” Concern filled her eyes.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I really like you, Crane.”

“I really like you too.” Maybe she wanted him to kiss her—but that was nothing to be concerned about. He hadn’t kissed many girls, so he probably wasn’t very good at it, but…he leaned in.

“But I’ve been lying to you,” she said.

“Lying? No, you haven’t been
lying
—you just hadn’t told me yet. But I already knew anyway.”

“You knew what?”

“That you like me,” he replied.

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“What then?”

“I tricked you. I told you I was taking you into a dream world.”

“Well, it was a very cool trick then,” he said, smiling and looking around.

“No, listen—this is not a dream world. We’re not dreaming.”

“Huh?”

“This is real,” she continued. “Everything you see is real.”

“Then where are we, and how did we get here?” he asked. “Wait—did you drug me or something?”

“No, I wouldn’t do that. This is…the future.”

“The
future?
”

“Well, for
you
it is,” she said. “For me, it’s the present. I brought you here because I…fell in love with you while I was watching you grow up.”

“How did you watch me grow up? We just met. Wait—you’re in
love
with me?” He grinned.

“Yes. And I wanted you to come here and be with me in my world.”

“In
your
world…in the
future?
This isn’t the future, Conroe. It’s eighteenth-century England.”

“No, it just
looks
like eighteenth-century England. We’re in Texas.”

Crane began to feel dizzy.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“What year is it?”

“2521,” she answered.

He turned away and barfed on the grass.

“Oh, Crane, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied to you, but I just couldn’t think of any other way to get you here—to show you my world.”

“I don’t understand. Which part was real, and which part was a dream?”

“All of it was real,” she said. “As soon as you closed your eyes and relaxed, we went into transport mode.”

“
Transport mode?
What the heck is that? What about the bridge and the Dream Tunnel? How could those be real? Every time we crossed the bridge, the thing fell apart, but then the next time it was back in its original state. How could that be real? And if it
is
real, I nearly
died
on that thing.”

“I don’t fully understand that part myself. I just know that it’s the only way to bring somebody here from another time.”

“But how did we go
back
so fast?” he asked. “We didn’t have to use the Dream Tunnel or the bridge to go back to
my
world.”

“That’s true—and I don’t know why. I didn’t invent the time travel computer—my great grandfather did. I found it in the cellar a few months ago. My great grandfather Harry was an inventor who lived in Conroe, Texas. He perfected time travel in the year 2037 and sent himself to the future—to the year 2400. He couldn’t wait to see how technology had progressed over the years. But what he found was shocking. The people didn’t even have electricity.”

“How did that happen?” he asked.

“That’s what Harry wanted to find out. So, he popped into various time periods to see what was happening, and he discovered war after war, with increasingly sophisticated weaponry that not only killed people and blew up buildings and roads and bridges, it also destroyed power grids, computer networks, and finally all electrical and electronic equipment.”

“Whoa.” Crane felt a major headache coming on.

“So, he decided to move to the year 2400 permanently, without telling anyone else, and use his knowledge and skills to help the people rebuild society in a way that would not result in war. He was an orphan and had no family, so that made the decision easier. In his new world, he tirelessly worked with people, teaching them and encouraging them. Soon he became revered, and someone started a movement to make him their king. Harry told them he had no interest in being a king, but the people insisted and began building a castle for him. Finally, he relented and became their benevolent king.”

“If you have no electricity here, how do you power a computer?” he asked.

“The time travel computer runs on a special battery that Harry invented. Apparently, it lasts forever when it is not in use.”

“So it will take you to any time period?” he asked.

“Yes. I can travel back and forth instantaneously—if I travel alone. When I bring someone here with me from another time period, both of us have to go over that bridge and through the tunnel. We’re in some kind of limbo when we’re in there—we’re just electrons inside the computer. So you definitely don’t want to get stuck in there. Taking you
back
is easy.”

“That’s what I want to do. I want to go back—now,” he said.

“Please, Crane—give it a chance.”

“I can’t.” He could feel tears welling up in his eyes. “I’m crazy about you, Conroe, but I can’t do this.”

Conroe’s eyes reddened. “I’m so sorry.”