Dream Walker (20 page)

You are too close to retirement to be risking this,
his rational mind tried to explain to him.

“Yep,” he muttered as he changed into a clean uniform.

And in uniform! When you are off-duty! You are out of your goddamn mind!

“Yep.”

Mathis put his badge on. He strapped his duty belt around his thick waist. He dug in the closet for his 1980’s issue nightstick and slid it into its holster, just in case he needed to wood someone.

Yeah, let’s not let that happen. Felony 459 and 187?

“Yep.”

He checked himself out in the mirror and decided to brush his teeth.

You’re stalling.

“Yep.”

Then he got in his pickup truck and headed across town.

CHAPTER 16

“Felt the need to tie one on, eh?” A muffled voice spoke from nearby. Aislen’s eardrums were still abuzz from the decibels on the dance floor, so the intonation was indistinct and garbled and she couldn’t tell who was speaking to her.

She tried to move her body, but she was twisted and tight, as well as hot and sticky with sweat.

“You should listen when your friends tell you that you aren’t big enough for Scotch, yet.”

Genesis?
Thinking made her head throb. Though it was resting on a soft pillow, her head felt like it was split open and her brain matter was spilling out.

“And luckily, you have good, strong friends or else you’d probably still be lying on that dance floor.”

Troy?
Her mouth tasted sour with the residual flavors of alcohol and bile, but she didn’t remember throwing up. Oh, wait a minute. Yeah, she did. A flashback of a gutter and a nice pair of loafers replayed in her mind and her stomach rumbled loudly at the reminder. Acidic juices lurched into her throat and she thought she was going to throw up again.

A cool hand from out of nowhere rested itself on her forehead, instantly quelling the spinning, the burgeoning sickness, and silencing the hissing that harassed the cochlea of her inner ear.

“Egh, Aislen, what did you think you were doing?” The voice was right next to her ear, speaking her name with its foreign inflection.

Her first reaction was to jump up and run away, but she found herself frozen—pinned in place by a force stronger than the gentle hand pressing on her forehead. A scream rose up in her throat, but she could not find her vocal chords. She could only lay frozen and mute, staring up at her father sitting beside her.

“Shhhhhhhhhh. Settle,” Preston said gently. “It’s only a dream.” Then he laughed softly.

He removed his hand. “I don’t like imposing my will upon you, Aislen, but this is for your own good. So here is the deal...I am going to hold you here, with me, until you hear me out. Then, you are going to make a decision, and we will go from there, okay?”

She struggled against her own numb flesh. “Noooo!” She screamed at him in her brain.

“Like I said, you don’t have a choice right now, but you will, I promise.” He got up off the bed and sat down in a nearby chair. It was a metal chair with a green, leather cushion, something found in an airport or at the DMV or a state-run mental health hospital.

Aislen looked around the room and found she wasn’t even in a room. It was a nowhere space, foggy and blank. There were no walls and it was empty except for the chair, the bed, and the two of them.

“First, a recap,” her father said. “You have been drinking tonight.”

Gee, who knew you were an Einstein?
Aislen thought to herself.

Preston laughed. At what exactly, she didn’t know.

“Problem number one with that is, you aren’t a drinker, so your body is handling the alcohol content accordingly. You are still quite intoxicated right now.”

The “no duh” of the century.

He laughed again, which was really starting to irritate her. “I’m not here to lecture you about the things you already know—just about the things you don’t,” he continued. “You need to be careful about drinking. It inhibits your control. Which is why I am able to keep you immobilized on that bed. If you were sober, I would have to work a lot harder to make you sit still.”

What?

“It is very tempting to drink or use other pharmaceuticals. You might think it will suppress all this,” he waved his hand around the space, “that it will bury it all back down so that you can pretend that it doesn’t exist. But it won’t. It won’t cover it up. It won’t put it back in the box. It only makes you lose control. Are we clear on that?” He looked down at her in the bed, waiting for an answer.

Who do you think you are? You can’t tell me what to do!
She yelled at him, but with a tongue still hijacked and hog-tied. She glared at him, hoping she still had control of her eyeballs and could get her point across.

“I’m not telling you what to do, Buttercup. Just trying to impart some extremely important advice, especially for you.”

She was shocked. Had he heard her?

Yes. It’s called telepathy.
His lips didn’t move, but she heard it in her head as clear as day. Just like when she was in the dream. And when she was in the kitchen with her mom—

And I told you to ask her about the teacups,
he finished her thought, again, without speaking.

That is very fucking annoying,
she thought back to him.

He laughed out loud this time. “Yes. It can be. But it can also be very useful. But be grateful, you tune most of it out. Otherwise you’d be hearing everybody’s obnoxious chatter. Usually, only really capable people who have a strong emotional connection to you can get through.”

I don’t have a strong, emotional connection to you,
she thought.

He didn’t say anything. After a moment he got up and started wandering about the space.

Aislen realized that he no longer looked like the deranged, homeless man from her earlier vision. He didn’t look like the man that came to the door when she was four, either. He looked middle aged, the age that he would be in real life. He was slim and fit. The sandy blond of his hair was flecked with a little gray. He was handsome, just as her mother had said, and there was a magnetism about him. A very calming force drew her in and held her in a feeling of safety and belonging that she didn’t want to leave, even though she hated his guts.

Aislen could understand how her mom had fell so hard for him and remained hopeful for so long. Thinking of her mother pining away for this man, who just up and left them to fend for themselves, rekindled her anger.

Preston stopped pacing, came to the side of the bed, and sat down beside her.

“I don’t know how to tell you all the things that I need to, Aislen. I hope that after what you experienced yesterday, you understand that I
know
what is going on with you and that I can help.”

This is crazy,
she thought.
I’m going fucking crazy.
She started trying to fight again, her mind kicking and pushing against her body, yet it remained hopelessly motionless on the bed.

“Aislen...you are not crazy. And you are not going there. But that brings us to problem number two: what is happening to you. It would be easy just to label yourself as crazy and medicate it away. But that is not what is happening. The skills that have been laying dormant inside of you your whole life, they are starting to activate.”

What does that mean? Skills? That doesn’t make any sense!

“I know it doesn’t. That’s why I am here, to explain it and try to help you with it. You are in the process of, well, it’s kind of like waking up. Only you aren’t waking up from this world back into the world you call ‘real’. You are waking up from that world, into something—different...”

This is too much for me...I don’t want it! I want to be the way I was. I just want to be normal!

“I know and I am sorry. That isn’t possible. Your genetics are coded for this.”

So I am a freak? That’s what you’re saying? Great! Just. Fucking. Great!

“Well, you’re in good company.”

With who? You? That’s good company?

Preston didn’t respond. Aislen couldn’t read his mind, like he could read hers, but she could read the pain on his face well enough.

“No. Not just me,” he finally said. “There are others like you, like us in the world, Aislen. A few of them actually realize it and use it in a way that is beneficial. Some have experienced it, but suppress it. Like you would like to do. But you aren’t going to be able to. Your abilities are too strong. You need to understand it, learn how to control it, and you need to do that really fast. Because there are also those that understand it and utilize it to their advantage. And those people are very, very dangerous.”

Preston frowned slightly and shook his head. “I never wanted this for you. I wanted you to have a normal life. And safe—I wanted you safe. When you made it through childhood and adolescence and into adulthood, still dormant, I thought that it might be possible. But you are waking up, Aislen. There is no way around it.”

How do you know anything about my childhood or adolescence? You weren’t here for that!

Another shadow passed across his face and he looked away from her. She could tell he was trying to maintain his composure. When he looked at her again, the gold was alight in his eyes.

“I have
always
been near you, Aislen. As near as your next breath. It hasn’t been in the way I have wanted, or in the way you have needed. It has been the most painful aspect of my life. You can never fathom how sorry I am for that. I am very, deeply sorry.”

The apology sat heavy between them. Finally, Preston spoke again. “Aislen, I need to help you. I am the only one who can. And if I don’t...if you don’t
let
me...your life...your mother’s life...and any other people who get in their way will be in grave danger.

He held her in his intense gaze and slid closer to her on the edge of the bed. “It’s going to be hard for you, but I need you to trust me.” He placed his hands together and closed his eyes, as if he was about to pray. A lambent flame began to radiate in the space between his palms. As he pulled his hands apart, the glow clung and flickered around his fingertips. He placed his hand on her head and gently ran both thumbs across her forehead.

Aislen immediately became alert. The agonizing pounding in her head and her queasiness vanished. The paralysis released its grip and she could tell she was free to move and speak again. She also knew she was in a dream—and that, if she wanted to, she could wake up and be away from her father and this madness.

She sat up in the bed and looked at her father’s face, directly, for the second time in her life. Only this time, she was the one who had the choice of whether to walk away or not.

His eyes didn’t waver from hers: verdant, alive, and pensive. A large part of her wanted to hurt him, to turn away from him, wake from this twisted vision and never think upon him again. But the fear that her mother could be harmed somehow was too disturbing.

“What do you mean by danger?” she finally asked him.

He let out what seemed to be a small sigh of relief. “It’s a very long story and probably beyond what you can understand right now...but the short version is—the people who have been looking for me for most of my life, if they figure out that you are my daughter...they will look for you and they will not stop until you are dead.”

“What!?” A million questions riddled her mind at once. “But what did I do? What did you do? Why do they hate you so much they would kill me? Are you a criminal?”

“I am not.”

“But you
have
been running all this time, just like Mom said?”

“Yes, I have. I have spent most of my life running and hiding—because of who I am and what I can do. If they find out who you are...they will know
what
you are and what you are capable of. And if they can’t control you and use you for their own purposes, then they will eliminate you.”

“But what am I?”

“You’re a Walker.”

“Uh, yeah. But that’s Mom’s last name, not yours. She gave it to me when I was born.”

“No. I gave it to her. She needed an alias to break ties with her past. And I suggested it. She thought I just pulled it out of a hat, when really it was my alias. I never told her it was the last name I was using; I never told her my last name at all. She only knew me by Preston. See, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay for very long—no matter how much I wanted too. No matter how in love I was, I couldn’t stay with her or you, without bringing harm to you both. But I gave her the name that I used, so we could be connected that way. So I would always be able to find you.”

“So your name is Walker, too?” The idea of it was repugnant. She had always been proud that she had her mom’s name, that they were independent of the man who walked away from them. “I guess you lived up to your alias, didn’t you?” She meant it to be hurtful and was satisfied when she saw it had found its mark. But Preston pressed on with his explanation.