Escape with the Dream Maker (10 page)

Seeing the street was clear, Wash leaped off the small porch, ran to the side of the house, and disappeared into the deeper shadows. He bent low, for the windows were close to the ground. Approaching one he knew to be at the back of the house, he held his breath, hoping there was no dog. He didn't remember one. Carefully he got on his hands and knees and began to crawl.

He remembered that the room where the innervision machinery was kept had two windows, both not more than two feet off the ground. Slowly, holding his breath, he reached the first. Yanking off his hat, Wash lifted his head and peered into the room.
Bingo!
he thought, scarcely breathing.
There he is!

Oliver sat at a table, working on some meaningless maze of wires and bulbs and knobs.

I wonder what he's going to do with that—blow up the world?
Wash thought bitterly.

For what felt like an hour, he crouched in the shadows, watching. He really had no plan. Once Oliver got up and left the room, and Wash thought he had gone for the night.
No, it's not that,
he thought.
He'd have turned the lights out.

Soon the inventor was back with a sandwich in one hand and a glass of amber-colored liquid in the other. He continued working, stopping occasionally to take a bite of the sandwich or a drink from the glass.

Wash's legs began to cramp. Finally, he saw Oliver stretch, yawn, and look around the room. Then the man rose suddenly and moved straight toward the window.

He's seen me!
Wash thought.
It's time to run.
Instead, he flattened himself against the wall. To his
horror, the window swung open, and Oliver leaned out. He was, however, not looking to the side but staring out at the orchard in the backyard. Wash did not move. He held his breath for what seemed like an eternity.

At last Oliver sighed deeply, then yawned again, and pulled himself back in.

Wash heard the window shut, and he drew a hand across his forehead. He was sweating despite the brisk night air, and he found that his hand was not steady.

That was a close one!

He waited, and suddenly the light went out. The room was plunged into blackness. Quickly Wash returned to the window and peered in but could see nothing. He knew Oliver's bedroom was upstairs, and a sudden notion frightened him.
I could go in,
he thought.
But if he caught me, that would be the whole ball game.

For some time he stood, torn between the desire to go in and search the laboratory and fear that he might be caught. Looking up, he saw the light go on in the upstairs bedroom. It stayed on for perhaps fifteen minutes, then went out.

I'll give him time to go to sleep,
Wash thought.
Then I'm going to burgle this place. I never been a burglar, but I guess this is a good time to begin.

After thirty minutes passed like thirty days, Wash took a deep breath.
If I'm going to do it, I better do it quick.
He reached into his pocket and felt for the stub of a candle and the matches that he always carried.

Reaching up slowly, Wash tried the window. He half expected it to be locked, but to his great delight it swung freely open. He had it halfway when it suddenly gave a creak, sounding like a gun going off to Wash's sensitive ears. He froze where he stood. But nothing happened, and slowly he moved the window again—so
slowly that it would not make another sound. When it was fully open, he stepped over the low threshold.

Squatting down, he pulled out the candle and lit it. The flame cast a ghostly gleam over the room. He was familiar with the laboratory and thought,
I don't know anything about those machines, but he keeps his books in a bookcase over beside that wall.

He crossed the room as if he were going through a minefield.
All I need is to knock over a dish or something, and I'm dead meat.

He did not, however, disturb anything and safely reached the bookcase. He held up the candle and read the labels on the spines of the leather-bound volumes.
“Inner Stellar Galactic Relationships,”
he whispered. “That don't mean nothing to me.” He moved down the line, whispering the titles, some of them so complicated that he could not even pronounce them. In despair he shook his head. “It would take a college professor to understand this stuff.”

Wash had almost given up when he came upon a book with two words printed on the spine
—Dream Machine.
“That's it,” he whispered and pulled it out.

Now fearful that someone might see his light from the street, Wash moved over to a corner of the lab. Sitting on the floor with his back wedged against the wall, he opened the book and began to read. He was afraid he would find long columns of confusing figures, but instead the book appeared to be a diary. It began simply: “I have found the way to join minds with books or other forms of media. I can now put people into these artificial forms, and they will feel that they are reality.”

This is it! Now all I got to do is find out if he's had anything to do with Josh and the others that are
missing. He's got to, though. He's the only one that can run this thing.

Convinced that the answer lay in the book but fearful to steal it for fear of being found out, Wash read as fast as he could. It was hard going, but he was afraid to skip anything. He could hear the clock ticking in the hallway, and once there was a thump overhead that made his heart leap. He froze and waited, absolutely still, until he was convinced that there was no danger.

He had gotten only a fourth of the way through the book when he realized that there was no way that he could possibly read all of this material before dawn. In despair he thought,
Well, lots of times when I was reading a book back in Oldworld, I'd just skip to the end of it to see how it came out. I'm gonna try that now.

Wash turned quickly to the back quarter of the book and was delighted when the first words his eyes fell on were: “The Sleepers are becoming more and more addicted to innervision. Josh, the leader, is the most likely to succumb first. He is exhausted and cannot think straight. I will have him soon. On the other hand, the small black boy is very resistant. I may have to take other steps with him.”

Other steps. Other steps, my foot! I'd like to take my step and kick you back between the pockets.
He read on eagerly and found records of how each of the Sleepers had come in and which book or television program they had asked to be transported into. It was fascinating, but he had no time to waste.

One scientific fact did catch his eye, though. He found a scribbled note that said, “I have found a way to put two dreamers into the same dream by installing a twin set of controls. I can put one subject into a dream and then, by attaching an identical headset, at identical
settings, put another dreamer into that same dream. Thus if I put Josh Adams into a dream, I can also put the girl Sarah into that same dream. I do not know what value this is, but it has been an interesting experiment.”

Instantly Wash knew what he had to do. “That's it,” he whispered. “I've got to find where Josh is, and I got to get to him in his dream, whatever it is, and I got to convince him to come back.”

He read a little farther, and what he read confirmed his belief. Oliver had written about something he called “final dreams”: “I have so calibrated the innervision machinery that once a dreamer is put into these final dreams, he can come back only if he himself wills it. This will prevent anyone from going after others to bring them back against their will. It would be useless, for they themselves must make the decision, and of course they will not do so because they are living the dream of a lifetime. They will not choose to come back, even should someone try to convince them to do so.”

Wash sat absolutely still. This seemed to be the end of his findings.
What good would it do to go into their dreams if they won't come back?
But then he seemed to hear the voice of Goél saying, “Plunge into the unknown. Dare whatever you must for the sake of your friends the Sleepers.”

Wash suddenly nodded. “I'll do it!” he muttered. “I'll go into their dreams, and I'll find them. I'll find Josh first and somehow convince him that he's got to come back.”

But Wash was still stumped.
I've got to find them. But where are they?
He glanced upward toward where Oliver, no doubt, lay sleeping.
He's got them hidden somewhere—I just know it. And they could be almost
anywhere in this town. Not in this house, though—there's not room enough
. Another thought occurred to him.
I'll bet all those other people that have disappeared—Goél's servants—I bet they're right here in this town somewhere too, and I'll have to find them.

Wash replaced the books, left Oliver's house, closed the window, and stationed himself across the street where he could see the inventor when he came out in the morning. He slept some until dawn, but as soon as the sun rose and touched his eyes, awakening him, he was afraid to doze off again. The air was so cool his teeth chattered. His eyes were gritty from lack of sleep. Nevertheless, he stayed awake, pinching himself when he almost slipped into a half sleep.

Finally, at 8:30, Oliver came out of the house. He was wearing his hat and coat and carrying a large briefcase. He turned right and headed purposefully down the street.

Wash followed with some difficulty. He had to keep out of sight, for if Oliver turned around and saw him, the game would be up. He was also afraid that some of the townspeople would see him sneaking through alleys and dodging in and out from behind trees. That could be deadly too, for the Sanhedrin had spies everywhere.

Fortunately, Oliver did not go far. He entered a big four-story building made of dull red brick. It had a steep-pitched roof and was the largest building in Acton. Wash knew well what it was.

It's the prison—he's got them all in the old prison.

The Sleepers had learned quickly that there was a prison in Acton where criminals of all kinds were kept—not just lawbreakers from the town itself but from all the territory round about. The prison had a
bad reputation, evidently well earned. According to some reports, there were murderers and thieves and every sort of tough in the world behind those red walls.

Now,
Wash thought in despair,
I got to break into jail. Bad enough trying to break out. I wish Reb was here with me.

He lurked around until Oliver came out nearly four hours later. Wash followed the inventor to his house, made certain that he was inside, and then went walking down an alley.

“How do you get into a jail?” he said. He had absolutely no idea, but he was a sturdy young man, this Wash Jones, and determined to get inside even if he never got out again.

 

It took Wash two days to get into the jail. He discovered that bread was delivered every morning by a dull-witted young man who brought it from across town in a cart. Wash noticed both mornings that a guard would let him in and leave the door open until the boy came out again.

Wash thought about what he did.
He lets the boy with the bread in, takes him to someplace inside, lets him deliver the bread, then brings him right back out again,
he thought.
What I've got to do is be right near that door when that bread boy goes in. I'll wait and give 'em time to get to wherever it is they take the bread. Then I'll dart inside and hide
.

It was a desperate scheme, and Wash had little hope of it working. “But it's all I know to do,” he said. “If they catch me, then that's the end of it.”

The next morning he timed his walk so that he was there when the bread boy came, whistling a tuneless song. The door opened at the boy's knock, and he stepped inside carrying the huge box of bread on his
shoulders. Through the half-open door Wash saw the boy disappear, being led by a guard.

Quickly Wash stepped inside and gave a sigh of relief when there was nobody else in sight. A long hall led from the foyer, and he took it at once, his heart beating fast. As he came to the bottom of stairs, he saw that the first floor was divided into two sets of cells, one on each side of the hall. He peeked into a cell and saw a prisoner lying flat on his back, dressed in a dirty gray uniform.

Yanking his head back, Wash thought,
They can't be in this place.

He got to the second floor, then to the third, and was feeling discouraged when he came to the stairs that led to the top floor. He heard footsteps coming and in desperation scrambled up the steps. The door at the top was unlocked—he stepped inside and shut it behind him, breathing hard. He turned around, and, in the faint light given by lanterns mounted from the ceiling, he almost stopped breathing.

Along both sides of the room were single cots. On each cot a person lay, and attached to his temple was a headset. The wires led to black boxes such as Wash had seen on the dream machine.

Quickly he moved down the aisle between the two lines of cots, looking at faces. Most were strangers, but on one cot lay his friend Josh Adams. He checked the other cots in the large room and breathed a sigh of relief.
They're all here.
He stopped by Reb, whose face was composed into a dull look, seeming almost dead. Leaning over him, Wash said, “Don't you worry, Reb. I'll get you out of this.”

He walked back to Josh, thinking,
I'll have to get Josh to come back first. He's the leader. He'll have to
bring back the rest.
“Come on, Goél,” he said, “give me some help!”

He found that each box was indeed equipped with two headsets. He read the dials, which were meaningless, then looked at Josh's face. Josh was half smiling, but he did not look good at all to Wash. Clipping the unused headset to his own head, he lay on the floor beside Josh's cot. He reached up to where there were two toggle switches. The one connected to Josh's side was flipped to the “On” position; the other, which was attached to his own headset, was on “Off.”