Chapter 8 by Green

Chapter 8

By Green

All of the Wang Group hostages had not slept for over 24 hours. Their Sunside guards made sure of it because once a Dreamer was asleep, their Dreamselves could power up in the Dreamworld. In the physical world, they were just regular human beings held at gunpoint.

Some Wang Group members were held in separate facilities away from the rest. Roshani was one of them.

She sat in a cold metal chair, her wrists cuffed and her eyelids constantly drooping. Her ears rang from the repeated horns that the Sunside guards blared every so often to keep her awake. A metal table was placed between her chair and the second chair across from her; they were the only furnishings in the otherwise drab and empty room lit by the single blinding lamp hanging from the ceiling.

The sound of a door opening behind her made goosebumps pop along Roshani’s arms. Boots clicked briefly against the smooth gray floor and then the all-too-familiar red jacket appeared in her line of sight.

“Roshani, Roshani, Roshani,” sang the infamous leader of Sunside. “You look so tired! Why don’t you go to sleep?”

“Freya,” Roshani said evenly. “What do you want?”

“Always to the point,” Freya sighed, batting her lashes. “Can’t we have a simple conversation? A talk over tea? Lay back, relax, and act as best friends?”

“I couldn’t stand even pretending to be associated with you,” said Roshani. “Let alone BFFs. What do you want?”

Freya smiled and gracefully sat down in her seat on the other side of the table.

“It almost feels like you’re running the interrogation,” Freya said. “We had better change that.” T

he piercing blast of the horn so close to her ear made Roshani screech; she would’ve jumped out of her seat if she hadn’t been tied to it. Her eardrums threatened to split from the sound and her head was ringing, ringing, ringing. The Sunside guard that had snuck up behind her stepped back at a wave from Freya.

“My turn to ask questions,” Freya said. “Where is the Emotion Manipulator?”

“What an unexpected question,” Roshani grumbled, still recovering from the noise in her brain. “I’m sorry I can’t answer that.”

“Roshani, dear, this is where your to-the-point attitude would do you some good,” said Freya. “Give me the answer I want and we can all go home happy. I’ll even let your Wang Group friends go. What’s left of them, at least.”

“Ask any one of us, and we’ll all give the same response. We really don’t know where the kid is.”

“You must have sent him on a mission. Enlighten me, what were your parting words?”

“Stay safe. Don’t die.”

The Sunside guard prepared to step forward with the horn but stopped when Freya lifted her hand. She twirled her finger in the air and the guard retreated out of the room.

“That’s unfortunate,” Freya said. “It would be so very difficult for a newbie like him to survive with his naivety. My henchmen are chasing him as we speak. I told them they could bring back the Manipulator using any means they deem fit.” She laughed. “But it might not even come to that. There’s no one else left to help you—I know for a fact Kristen Wang won’t be returning to San Francisco from her vacation on the East Coast anytime soon. The little Manipulator will want to save you all and come running right into my hands.”

Roshani was silent, yet she could hear her heart thumping in her chest. The door opened again, signifying the Sunside guard had returned. She heard footsteps draw closer behind her, but she couldn’t see what was happening even when she craned her neck because it was dark and she was so tired.

“I’ll give you one last chance to choose,” said Freya. “Either you tell me where the boy is and we can retrieve him with less damages. Or I can wait for him to be tossed at my feet half-dead.”

Roshani took a deep breath, briefly closing her eyes. Please be safe, Jimmy.

“Well, then I can’t wait to toss you at my feet half-dead too,” Roshani replied.

Freya’s smile twitched and her eyes narrowed. That’s when Roshani felt a needle being jabbed into her neck by the Sunside guard. Her vision blurred; she began to feel dizzy and the rest of her body drooped. She expected a horn to blow in her ear, so she was very confused when she began to fall into slumber without interference.

Unfortunately, when she opened her eyes again, sitting unbound in the Dreamworld version of this interrogation room, she was face-to-face with Freya’s Dreamself. Black tendrils erupted from Freya’s arms and snaked towards her before she could even dodge. The last thing she saw was Freya’s triumphant smile before the blackness encroached upon her shrinking tunnel vision and into dark oblivion.

~

“Will this really be enough?” Bluu asked, holding up the tiny one-milliliter bottle between his thumb and forefinger.

“It’s good for one person,” Frazer said. “Any more than that could risk greater side-effects.”

I shifted my backpack nervously on my lap. Inside was about a dozen more carefully placed bottles that each held the amber liquid. Freddy had opened one and let us smell the contents—it was actually quite sweet, which made it look like honey. But looks were deceiving and none of us had tasted the antidote because of said risks.

We were back in the car, driving across the Oakland Bay Bridge and loaded with antidotes. Freddy had given us extra in case any Wang Group hostages had since been poisoned but cautioned us to use them only if we were absolutely sure Freya’s Black Tendrils were the cause of the poisoning.

“Side-effects include making the poison worse, insanity, memory loss, ability loss, and a bunch of other possible life-threatening results,” Freddy had warned. “We’ve seen it all happen to our Dreamers before. Also use the antidotes sparingly because I can’t issue out any more in a short period of time.”

We entered San Francisco, which was deep in its nightlife. Another day gone. I wondered how many angry patients I had after dipping on my sleep therapist job. Roshani had offered to let me go back to that way of life but could I? Could I go back, knowing the Dreamworld and other Dreamers existed? T

ime flew as I mulled over my thoughts, and the car pulled into the alleyway of 610 Market Street. We got out, making sure no one had followed or was watching us. Bluu opened the back door, and we hurried inside.

The place was awfully quiet. Bluu headed into Roshani’s office but found her missing.

“Where is Eric?” Frazer asked.

“Roshani was the one who put him in a safe spot,” said Bluu. “She might be...captured.”

Bluu’s hunched shoulders betrayed his worry. They must have been close friends, I thought with a pang. I hope she’s okay too.

“We’ll save her and the rest of Wang Group,” I reassured him. “We’ll do it one step at a time, starting with finding Eric. He must be around here somewhere. Maybe I can try sensing him in the Dreamworld?”

“You can do that?” Bluu asked in surprise.

“I’ve never tried.” “

Worth a shot,” said Frazer. “Bluu and I will look around in the meantime.”

The two of them set off to search the building while I found a desk to sit at. I placed the backpack carefully beside me, folded my arms against the desk, and rested my head on them. Sleep came easily to fill my exhaustion. When I blinked my eyes open again, I was almost surprised to find the room empty. No dark silhouettes wandering about like I was used to, likely because there was no one sleeping nearby. At least, not in this particular room. I—or rather, my Dreamself—stood up and left the room. I couldn’t see or hear Frazer and Bluu. Maybe it’s because I was in the Dreamworld and both of them were still awake. It felt slightly unnerving to be so alone.

That should make things easier, I told myself. If Eric is still unconscious, then his silhouette must be the only thing wandering this building. God, I hope he didn’t decide to leave or something.

I let my instinct guide me through the building, taking turns and heading deeper into the facility. I hadn’t yet been given the chance to explore this place when I was first introduced to it. There was a room with about a dozen beds, similar to the Dreamroom I had seen at Nozpin. I found the kitchen and a TV room plus a recreation room where an unfinished blue painting sat on an aisle.

My feet took me to the adjacent men’s bathroom. The door was unlocked but the toilet was occupied. Honestly, I didn’t exactly stumble into anything inappropriate. All I saw was a humanoid shape vomiting a black substance into the toilet bowl. The same black blemishes stained the silhouette’s body like various nests of tangled wires. Poisoned.

“Hey man,” I said. “You don’t look too good.”

The silhouette stopped its vomiting momentarily to turn its faceless head towards me. It looked like it was going to stand up until it jerked, and then continued throwing up.

“Take it easy, Eric,” I said. “Bluu, Frazer, and I are here to help. We’ve got the cure and we’ll get you well again in no time.”

The manifestation of Eric shuddered at the toilet. It sat back and itched at the tangled knots all over itself. Tangled wires—puzzles.

“Let me see.”

Kneeling down beside the silhouette, I started fixing a large tangled black mass on its shoulder. After some searching, I found one of the ends of the lines and slowly worked at straightening out the mess. As soon as the ball of tangles became a straight piece of string, it faded away and the silhouette visibly relaxed. I eliminated knot after knot until the biggest tangles were gone. There were still numerous small blemishes remaining and new ones were forming. I needed to find Eric’s real body to give him the antidote.

“Where are you?” I asked.

The silhouette stumbled to its feet. Then it walked—or more like drifted—out of the bathroom. I followed it closely into a room towards the back of the building. It pointed at a closet, which I opened to reveal a lot of old coats. The silhouette continued to point in the same direction, so I batted the coats aside.

“No hidden Narnia doors,” I said, finding nothing but the back wall of the closet.

Then it occurred to me that I should try pushing the closet, and I doubted my strength until I found out there were wheels on the bottom. The closet rolled aside, revealing the hidden doorway I was looking for. It opened with a squeak. There, lying in the single bed in the secret room, was Eric. My eyes snapped open, back into my physical body at the desk.

“Bingo.”

Snatching up the backpack, I traced my steps back to the closet, which was a bit harder than expected. Along the way, I ran into Frazer and told him the good news.

“Go help him,” Frazer said. “Remember, only one bottle and it’ll be enough. Be very, very cautious of any symptoms. I’ll fetch Bluu and meet you there.”

So I had a bottle ready in my hand when I finally stepped into the closet room for real. Coming closer to Eric’s body, I flinched at how dead he looked. His face was sickly and he had circles under his eyes despite being asleep for so long. Well, his consciousness hadn’t exactly been resting. I wondered if his silhouette was still wandering around nearby in the Dreamworld.

“Time to come back, Eric,” I whispered as I raised Eric’s head and carefully tilted the bottle’s contents into his mouth.

Some of the liquid dripped down his chin; it was more viscous than I’d thought. For a moment nothing happened. 30% chance of side-effects, I remembered. That number suddenly felt very high. Severe poisoning, insanity, memory loss, ability loss—

Eric’s body convulsed. His eyes bulged open the same time his mouth did. His hands went to his throat and he rolled onto his stomach, clawing his way towards the edge of the bed. I stumbled back in shock. Had I poisoned him more? Was this a symptom? Had I made things worse?

Eric’s head made it to the edge and he vomited all over the floor. A lot of black stuff and maybe bits of his last sandwich.

“Goddamn it,” Eric groaned. “That does not taste like honey.”