Night Terrors (3 page)

‘Upstairs. I need to get upstairs.’

She bites her lip and nods. ‘I’ll get rid of them.’

I slump into my bedroom, throw open my wardrobe door and curl up in the bottom in the tightest ball I can possibly manage. It’s dark and safe and solid.  I close my eyes and block out the world.  No-one is going to hurt me.  I’m not in any danger.  I repeat the words over and over again in my head like a Buddhist mantra.

I don’t know how much time passes before the phone starts to ring. It sounds like it’s very far away.  I have no intention of answering it.  I’m not given much of a choice though. There’s a gentle knock on the wardrobe door. ‘Zoe? It’s for you.’

I push open the door, ignoring the creak, and take the phone from my mother and doing my best to ignore her anxious expression. I stare at the mobile dully. I was really proud when I bought it. When I was trapped inside the house I didn’t need a mobile phone, so acquiring one because I might actually need it had filled me with delight. Now it just seems like another link to the big bad world outside that I could do without.

My mother wrings her hands. ‘Should I call the doctor?’

I shake my head mutely. Her face remains pale and worried. I try to smile but it doesn’t work so instead I just hold the phone to my ear.

‘Zoe? Are you almost here? Check-in will be closing in five minutes so you’d better tell your taxi to put the pedal to the metal.’

I lick my lips. ‘I’m not coming,’ I whisper.

‘Pardon?’

‘I’m sorry, Dante.’ Tears leak out of my eyes. ‘I can’t do it. I tried. I really tried. But we were less than five miles out of town and…’ My voice trails off as I’m forced to take several ragged gulps of air.

There’s a moment of silence. I hug myself. He thinks I’m an idiot. What kind of person is afraid to travel more than a few miles from home? After all the dreamweaver revelations, I told him I was fully recovered from my agoraphobia. I’m nothing more than a big, fat liar.

‘Get a hold of yourself,’ he says sternly.

I jerk. ‘Wh-what?’

‘You heard me. Where are you right now? Back at home?’

I nod, then remember to speak. ‘Yes.’

‘Are you dizzy? Sick?’

I try to focus. ‘No,’ I mumble. ‘Not now.’

‘I know you’re breathing because I can hear it. You’re not dying. You’ve not failed.’ He exhales loudly. ‘You’ve not left your town, have you? I mean in the last month since you managed to leave your house.’

‘No.’ It sounds like more of a squeak than an actual word.

‘Well then, what do you expect? You can’t just jump on a plane and travel thousands of miles without thinking about it. This is normal. It’s not a problem.’

Like an idiot, I start to sniffle. ‘Of course it is!’

‘No, it’s not.’ He curses. ‘I pushed you too hard when I should have been more thoughtful. This is my fault, not yours, so you need to stop feeling sorry for yourself and shake it off. We can go another time.’

My bottom lip juts out like a child’s. ‘We can’t. It was really difficult for me to get time off work at such short notice. I don’t know how long it’ll take before I’m brave enough to…’

‘Brave enough?’ he interrupts incredulously. ‘Last night, you skied down a monster of a mountain where anything might have happened!’

‘But that was in a dream.’

‘You could still have seriously injured yourself! Not to mention that you were the only person brave enough to take on the Mayor.’

‘But…’

‘Stop saying but. Get yourself a cup of tea. I’ll be there in an hour.’

‘But…’

‘I told you to stop saying that.’

A smile wobbles at the corner of my mouth. ‘But we need to find out exactly what’s going on in the other zones, Dante. We need to know what the Department is up to. You can’t come back here, you have to go. Meet your contact. There’s no other choice.’

I can picture Dante running a hand through his jet black hair. ‘I don’t want to leave you on your own like this.’

‘My mum’s here. I’ll be fine. And there’s always the phone.’

‘No. You need me.’

I blink, astonished. ‘I do need you. I need you to find out what you can, Dante. I need to know that the Department isn’t up to anything else.’ I pause. ‘Go. Please. You’re a tracker. You can find me any time. I’ll try to sleep later so it’s easier for you with the time difference.’

‘I’m not
a
tracker, Zoe. I’m
the
tracker.’

‘The one and only?’

He laughs without mirth. ‘The one and only.’

‘Well, then,’ I say, ‘I guess that makes two of us.’

Chapter Two

Assumptions are the termites of relationships.
  Henry Winkler

The remnants of my mother’s impromptu bridge party linger in the kitchen. She’s energetic with her apologies and I can’t muster the energy to stay annoyed. Considering how I’d expected her to drop everything at the last minute to help me out and look after the Chairman, I’m not in a position to complain. If everything had gone to plan, I’d never have known about it – assuming the sticky gin marks had been wiped away, of course.

I virtually push her out of the door, telling her repeatedly that I’m fine. I don’t think I’m lying. Surprisingly, the conversation with Dante calmed me down a lot. And now that I’m back within the safety of my own four walls, I do feel much better.

I take a few experimental steps outside, worried that I may have regressed completely. When the panic remains at bay, I decide that I really am okay. Not good or normal or happy, but okay.  For now that will have to be enough.

With nothing else left to do, I get on with the last of the work that I’d promised to complete for Jerry. It’s a testament to how far I’ve come that I can put my angst from this morning aside and focus on something else. The familiar monotony of coding relaxes me even more. I’m tempted to call Jerry and say that I’ve cancelled my plans, but I decide against it. I might be able to use the free time to do other investigating; it’s not fair to leave it completely to Dante.

The knotted tension across my shoulders begins to dissipate as I work. For a short while I even kid myself that I wasn’t the person vomiting at the thought of travelling to another country. When the doorbell rings an hour or so later, however, my stomach drops in another sickening lurch. I remind myself that it’s absolutely fine to have someone appear on my doorstep.

Convinced that Dante’s ignored my pleas and returned to check up on me, I open the door with a heavy heart. It’s not his familiar face in front of me – it’s a different one. My mouth drops open.

‘Hi Zoe.’

‘Adam? What on earth are you doing here?’

My ex-boyfriend looks sheepish and shuffles his feet. ‘I wanted to come sooner,’ he admits. ‘But I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to.’

It’s a long time since I last saw him. It wasn’t long into my seriously agoraphobic days that he gave up on our relationship – something that actually made me feel relieved at the time. Guilt trickles through me now, though. The Mayor had grabbed him to try and find out where I was. From what I’d heard, it hadn’t been a pleasant experience. I should have called Adam afterwards.

I find my voice. ‘It’s good to see you. Come in.’

‘Are you sure?’

I smile and nod. ‘It’s fine now. I’m doing really well.’ I jump onto the path and back in again. ‘Ta da!’ Just don’t ask me to leave the country with you, I add silently.

‘That’s really good, Zo.’ He peers at me. ‘You seem kind of pale though.’

I dismiss his comment with a wave. ‘I ate something that didn’t agree with me. It’s nothing to worry about.’

‘Good. Good.’

I lead him into the kitchen. He declines my offer of a drink, although I see him look askance at the empty glasses and open bottle of gin. ‘My mother had a bridge party. Sort of.’

He tugs at his collar. ‘Oh. Okay.’

I smile involuntarily and wonder whether he really thinks I spend my days drowning my sorrows in Mother’s Ruin. Inwardly I shrug; it’s up to him what he thinks. ‘Look,’ I say finally. ‘I’m really sorry you got dragged into all that stuff last month. You know the, er, kidnapping and all.’

He sits down awkwardly. The Chairman appears out of nowhere and Adam smiles as he leans down to scratch his ears. ‘Hi, Mao.’ There’s an audible purr in response. Then he glances back up at me. ‘The police wouldn’t tell me much about what all that was about. Who was that guy?’

‘Just some nutter.’ I shake my head. ‘Nothing to worry about now. He, um, passed away. Heart attack,’ I add.

‘I heard that.’ Adam reaches over and covers my hand with his. ‘I was really concerned about you.’

‘I was concerned about you, too. It wasn’t fair that you were involved like that.’

He nods and we lapse into an uncomfortable silence. The large clock on the wall ticks loudly, filling the air. I look him over. He’s as good-looking as ever – sandy hair, soft brown eyes and a gentle smile. Except now I can’t imagine what I ever saw in him. There’s no tug inside me, just a faint nostalgic fondness and lingering guilt about what the Mayor did.

Adam licks his lips. ‘I feel really shitty about what I did to you, Zo. Abandoning you like that when you needed me.’

For a moment I think he’s read my mind then I realise he’s talking about our break-up. I shake my head. ‘It wasn’t like that. I needed to be on my own. Splitting up was for the best. For both of us.’

Adam looks crestfallen. ‘Was it?’ he asks. ‘We had some good times, Zo.’

Uh oh. ‘We did. But it’s important for the past to remain in the past.’

He takes a deep breath. ‘I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. In fact, I had a dream about you the other night.’

I’m alarmed. ‘Oh yes?’

His cheeks turn red. ‘It was nothing really. I just wondered, you know, if maybe you’d like to go out for a meal some time. For old times’ sake.’

Goodness knows, I could do with some more friends but I don’t think that’s quite what Adam is after. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

He pulls his hand away and his shoulders drop. ‘Oh.’

I’m desperate to change the subject. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like a drink?’

‘If you need to drink, Zo,’ he says sadly, ‘you go ahead.’

I spring to my feet and grab a clean glass, filling it with water and gulping it down. Adam watches me. His left eyebrow twitches and I frown. That used to happen whenever he felt guilty. His eyes drop to my glass and I realise he was expecting me to chug down gin instead. Maybe if I had, he’d have left already. Bugger. Missed opportunity.

‘Well,’ I say, ‘I’ve got lots of work to do so…’

‘Sure, sure.’ He gets to his feet, almost tripping over the Chairman. ‘I’m sorry I took up so much of your time.’

I’m starting to feel even more of a shit. ‘Don’t be sorry, Adam. Don’t ever be sorry. We had some great times and now they’re over.’ I punch him lightly on the arm. ‘No regrets.’

‘Sure.’ He manages a smile. ‘No regrets.’

I see him out. Well, that was fun. Not.

***

I might not be any good at making dream snowmen and I may somehow have failed to prevent my zumba mate from sobbing, but I’ve got pretty good at controlling whose dreams I end up in.

I spent a couple of weeks after the Mayor’s demise avoiding touching anyone so I didn’t have to experience their dreams. That was too hard to maintain though, especially with my desire to go outside and experience as much of the world again as possible. At least now I can push myself out of others’ heads at will and apparate directly in the Dreamlands but I remain wary of ending back up there. It’s not that I’m afraid of Ashley, she’s about the nicest person I’ve ever met, it’s just that I don’t think I can face the disappointment and hurt in her eyes again.

So when I feel my ears prickle and I find myself in the back of a taxi next to three supermodels, I simply go with the flow. As long as my taxi driver mate doesn’t venture into wet-dream territory, I can handle this until Dante shows up.

I peer out of the window. We seem to be in a jungle. It’s impressive that the driver’s subconscious mind thinks that his car has the wheels and the traction to traverse this muddy terrain. The supermodels beam and chatter to each other.

‘I love taxis,’ coos Gisele, flicking back her hair.

Naomi raises one perfectly arched eyebrow. ‘Well, I love Scottish taxis.’

‘Darlings,’ interjects Heidi. ‘I love Scottish taxi drivers called Archie.’ They give each other tight smiles.

‘Ladies, ladies,’ the driver, presumably Archie, says. ‘There’s no need to fight.’ He slaps a hand on his belly. ‘There’s enough of me to go round.’

They giggle. I’m starting to feel uncomfortable; this is getting a little too close to the secret desires of the friendly driver. On a need-to-know basis, I don’t need to know.

I tilt back my head, preparing to disapparate out of Archie’s dreams and into the next one, when a dark shape flits in front of the car and Archie slams on the brakes. All five of us are flung forward. My head crashes against the windshield with shocking pain. Tiny lights dance in front of my eyelids and I groan aloud. I’m fortunate that it’s not worse. It’s only because the car was moving so slowly through the thick mud that I didn’t go right through the glass. A dream this may be but seatbelts are still my friend. I’m reminded once more of Dante’s warning that it’s possible to get hurt, and pull back to look at the others.

Archie is slumped over the wheel, his fingers twitching. I turn back and check on the models, even though they’re nothing more than figments of his imagination. They’ve gone, leaving not so much as an indentation in the seats.

I shake Archie. He mutters something but I can’t catch the words. He will be fine. It’s only Travellers, who possess a conscious awareness of their ability to pass through dreams, who can be physically affected in the real world. It doesn’t dampen my concern, however. There was a hauntingly similar change of pace in the ski dream too.

Abandoning Archie for the time being, I blink out of the cracked windshield. The environment outside seems exactly as it was before. Whatever the strange dark shape was, there’s no sign of it now. All the same, my curiosity is piqued.