Escape with the Dream Maker (15 page)

When they hesitated, he aimed the can at Sarah's face. “The little lady goes first. She'll be asleep having pleasant dreams soon, or she'll be dead if you don't do as I say. Lie down quick!”

“Lie down, everybody,” Josh demanded. “He'll do it.”

“Now you're being smart. You first, Joshua.”

Josh lay on the floor and put his hands behind him. Keeping his eye on the others, Oliver leaned over and took a turn around Josh's wrist. He was smiling cheerfully and saying, “After all, dreams aren't so bad, are they? Why, I remember
—”

Josh flipped over and desperately lashed out with his foot.

“Ow!”

His heel caught Oliver in the forehead and knocked him over backward. He dropped the can.

In an instant Oliver was scrambling to his feet.

“Get him!” Wash yelled. “I got the can.”

Reb lunged for Oliver, but he tripped over Josh, who was still on the floor.

Oliver whirled and dashed madly out of the room.

“He'll alert the guards,” Reb said. “I'll get him.”

“No,” Josh said, “I'll get him.” He shook off the loose wire and leaped to his feet. “You go get Dave, Reb. You've got to bring him back, no matter what you have to do. Sarah, you go get Jake.” He was running for the door now and yelled back, “Quick! After Wash and I get Oliver pinned down, we'll go for Abbey, and that'll be all of us.”

The sleeping Jake lay on his cot. Sarah quickly moved next to him and attached the extra headset. “Let's do it, Reb,” she said, her face touched with strain. “Dave's pretty strong-willed, but you can bring him back.”

“Sure, I'll lasso him if I have to,” Reb said quickly. He went to Dave's side, put the headset on, and without a moment's hesitation flicked the switch.

 

The stadium of the Dallas Cowboys was packed. Every available seat was filled, and every spectator was standing up and screaming. Their voices seemed to shake the earth, and they stomped their feet so that the stadium itself trembled as if an earthquake had hit it.

Quarterback Dave Cooper trotted to the huddle. He paused just for a moment and looked up at the stands, a flaming mass of color. His silver helmet caught the sun and he grinned at his teammates. “Well, time for one more play. What'll it be?”

The running back who had broken every record for the Cowboys, said, “Give me the ball, Dave. I can do it.”

“You've done it before, Emmitt,” Dave said. He considered Smith, but saw that the back's face was tense and that he was limping. “You've carried us all
day, and we still got thirty yards to go and have only a few seconds left.”

“I can do it, though.”

Dave slapped him on the back. “You always think you can do it—and generally you can.”

“Let's use the old Hail Mary pass.” The fleet split end punched Dave in the side. “Just drop that little bomb right in my hands. I'll catch it and run over anybody that gets in my way.”

One by one the Cowboys begged for a chance.

The Super Bowl had been a hard-fought contest. Back and forth the teams had struggled. Now it was the last quarter, and the Cowboys had time for only one more play. A field goal was possible, but they were six points behind.

Dave was weary. He had been sacked four times that afternoon, and now he looked over and saw the monstrous linemen waiting for another chance at him. “They're going to be mean this time,” he muttered.

“What'll it be, Dave?” Emmitt asked, still hopeful for a chance.

“The one thing they won't be looking for,” Dave Cooper said suddenly.

“What's that?” the right guard asked.

“A quarterback sneak.”

“A quarterback sneak?” A groan went up, and the left guard said, “Why, you might make five yards, but as soon as you get away from the line, every one of those secondary backs will be right on you, Dave.”

“Then you'll have to get out and run some interference. Come on, let's do it.”

The Cowboys broke the huddle and went back to the lineup. Dave stepped up behind the center, wiped his hands on the towel, and stared calmly over at the linebacker, a giant of a man, strong enough to lift a
pickup truck. “I'm gonna get you this time, Cooper!” he said through broken teeth. “I'm gonna break you in two!”

“Help yourself, Bob,” Dave said cheerfully. He began to call out the signals. The stands had grown strangely quiet. Suddenly the ball slapped into Dave's hands, and the center fired off and knocked two men out of the way, making just enough room for Dave to put his head down and plunge through the line.

Actually it was rather easy because, as he had said, they were not looking for a quarterback sneak. He angled over toward the right corner, but he saw that two of the secondary men were already converging on him and a linebacker was coming to cut him off.

The stands went wild.

Dave sprinted ahead. Then he was glad to see Emmitt Smith coming out of nowhere to pass him and pull out in front. “I'll get one of 'em, Dave,” he yelled. Immediately he smashed into the safety, siding him down.

Almost at the same time the left linebacker caught a piece of Dave with his hand. He grasped Dave's jersey, and Dave twisted so that it tore away.

I'm loose!
he thought.
Only one man between me and winning the Super Bowl.
But that one man was the best safety in either league. He was fast, strong, and smart.

As Dave approached at full speed, his mind worked like a computer.
He's expecting me to duck left, therefore, I'll duck right. No, that's what he'll think I'm thinking. So I'll duck left anyway. No!

He had no time left to think for the two were only a few feet apart. The cornerback was waiting for Dave to make his move either right or left, and he was much faster than Dave Cooper, which they both knew.

Suddenly Dave did something that few players had ever done. Instead of trying to dodge, he lowered his head and ran straight into the cornerback. There was a
whoosh
as his shoulders struck the man in his stomach. He felt hands grab at him, and frantically he tore loose. Then, suddenly, he was over the goal line, and pandemonium broke out.

There was time only for the extra point. When it went sailing over the bars, Dave felt himself lifted high in the air. He was carried off the field through what seemed to be insane fans. As he jogged up and down on the shoulders of his teammates, he thought,
Nothing could be better than what I've got right now.

It took considerable time for the Cowboys to make their way off the field. Then there was the celebration in the locker room. And after that there was to be a celebration at the fanciest ballroom in Dallas. Dave refused a ride, saying, “Nope, I'm gonna drive that new Ferrari of mine. I haven't had a chance to do it much lately.”

Dave went to the parking lot and for a moment just looked at the Ferrari. It was the joy of his heart. Owning one had always been the dream of his life, and now it was all his! He opened both wings just for the joy of seeing them fly open, and then slipped behind the wheel.

He was about to close the doors when a man stepped out of the shadows and before Dave could blink was inside the car with him. He had a gun in his hand, and Dave went cold. He knew that there were people in this town who would kill you for a pair of tennis shoes, for a Ferrari, and for the cash he carried. Sudden fear ran through him.

“Drive out of here!”

“You won't get away with this,” Dave said hoarsely.

“Well, you won't be around to see me not get away with it.” He leveled the gun at Dave's head, and the voice came again in a Southern accent: “Get out of here before I shoot your ears right off, fella.”

There was no choice for Dave. He started the powerful engine and asked, “Where are we going?”

“I'll tell you when we get out of here. Now, drive out of this parking lot—and don't try anything funny when we pass the attendant.”

That had been in Dave's mind—to make some kind of a signal—but as they approached the entrance, he felt the gun touch his ribs. So when he passed the attendant on duty, all he could do was say, “Good night, George.”

“Good night, Mr. Cooper. Congratulations, you was the greatest.”

The Ferrari slipped out into the streets, and the Southern voice said, “Turn right and go until I tell you to stop.”

It was a long journey for Dave Cooper. He half expected to be shot and his body left in a ditch somewhere outside of Dallas. But no matter how hard he thought, he could not think of how to get out of this mess that he was in.

“How's it feel like to be a Cowboy, a big football hero?”

Dave shook his head. “Look, you can have the car. Just let me out,” he said.

“Keep driving.” There was a cold threat in the voice, and Dave knew better than to argue.

The trip was confusing. Dave did not know this part of Dallas well, but his captor directed him until they were outside the city. He headed him down a country road to a shabby shack that stood all alone. There
was a garage, and the man commanded him brusquely, “Drive into that garage.”

Dave pulled the Ferrari inside and sat there feeling sick. “It won't do you any good to kill me,” he said. “I can get money for you if that's what you want.”

“Get out of the car.”

Dave got out and watched as the tall young man shut the ramshackle door, concealing the car. “Get right in there and be careful.”

Dave walked out of the garage and to the house. The door was unlocked, but as soon as they were inside the gunman lit a kerosene lantern and shut the door. “Now,” he said, “we can get acquainted.”

He pulled off the sombrero that had been down over his eyes and said, “Take a good look at me, Dave.”

Dave Cooper stared at the young man's blue eyes and fair hair. “I've seen you somewhere before,” he said slowly.

“Shore have. Do you remember where?”

“No, I see so many people. Any way, what do you want? You're going to rob me, I guess.”

A smile touched the youth's lips. “You football players are pretty tough. I saw you make that last run.”

Dave could not think of anything to say to this. “Look, you're letting yourself in for a lot of trouble. You're going to wind up in the penitentiary.”

“Nope, I won't do that. What I want is for us to have a nice long talk together. I got some things to say to you, Dave.”

Dave was accustomed to fans wanting his attention.
But this guy's a maniac,
he thought with panic.
I've got to get out of here, but he's got the gun.

“Would you mind pointing that gun the other way?” he said. “It could go off.”

The gunman laughed suddenly, and he did not
look, at that moment, dangerous. “It won't go off,” he said. “Look.” He held it to his own head, and to Dave Cooper's astonishment pulled the trigger. There was a click, and then the young man tossed the gun at him. “Here, look for yourself.”

Dave caught the pistol and stared at it. “A toy gun!” he exclaimed.

“I had to get your attention, and real guns can be dangerous.”

Dave suddenly felt a streak of anger go over him. “I'm getting out of here, and you're not going with me.”

“Well, you can try, but I wish you would listen to me before we have some trouble. All I want is some talk for your own good, Dave.”

Dave lunged at him. His fist shot out, aimed straight at the point of his captor's chin, but the chin was not there, and suddenly a blow caught Dave right in the stomach.

“Oooph!”
he grunted, and suddenly he could not breathe. He held his stomach, and a blow caught him right in the chest that drove him backwards.

“My name's Reb,” the stranger said. “I reckon we're going to get a lot better acquainted, but we got to get this settled. You may be a big, tough football player, but the only way you're going to get out of that door is to beat me to a pulp. So if you got to try it, come on.”

What followed was amusing in a way. Dave Cooper was hard and fast and strong. Time and time again he threw himself at Reb, who was taller and faster and stronger. It went on for a long time, until both boys were gasping for breath.

Finally, Dave asked through bruised swollen lips, “What do you want? What's your last name?”

“Reb Jackson. Just a little talk, Dave. That's all. Nothing's going to happen. I promise you that.”

Suddenly Dave began to laugh harshly. “Well, it looks like you got the best of the argument. Is there any water around here?”

“I brought some out the other day when I found this place, and some food too. We can make a fire and cook up a little grub.”

Dave Cooper was suddenly intensely curious. “I have seen you before,” he said slowly. He studied the battered face of the tall young man and said, “Well, I'm gonna celebrate. It won't be what I planned, but I'm starving to death. Let's fix something to eat, and we can have this talk you want.”

 

It was Dave's second day of captivity. At first he had thought he could talk his way out of the situation. He had listened quietly while Reb Jackson had told his wild story. At first, of course, he thought that Reb was insane, but, if so, there seemed to be a method in his madness. What began to convince Dave was the fact that he had dreamed about most of the events that Reb described taking place in Nuworld.

Reb had been calm and patient, but watchful.

Now the sun was setting. The boys sat outside the shack, watching the huge red globe go down, while Reb talked about Goél and Nuworld. “Like I've said, Dave, all this is just make-believe. Those ‘dreams' you've been having, they're what's real. Goél is real, and Sarah, and most of all for you, I guess, Abbey.”

“Abbey.” This name caught Dave's attention, and he lifted his head. “What about Abbey?”