Chapter 2 by Green

Chapter 2

By Green

How much control do I really have?

I’d always thought that I was the only one—yes, like that sense of “specialness” that a child clings onto. Maybe I was just a child in Eric’s eyes, a novice at my craft. I sure as hell didn’t know how to conjure cigarettes or flaming spears.

And I definitely was not responsible for this hole we were about to fall into, that made my stomach drop and my arms flail on instinct. Strips of my clinic’s tiled floor bursted upwards, closed in, and sealed above our heads like the peals of a banana to form a dome. I fell on my back, just as the ground trembled again and my gut tingled as we plunged into—I didn’t know where, but it was down and below the floors of my clinic.

Then, just as abruptly, I felt the surface beneath me lurch upwards, and the complete change in direction churned my breakfast up to my throat. It was over before I could vomit. The walls of the dome peeled back, the tiles crashing onto the pavement and revealing the front parking lot outside my office.

How did we—But we were just inside….

I didn’t have time to think much more because the figure—the woman—standing in the middle of the empty lot caught my eye. She wore a blood-red studded leather jacket. From this distance, her platinum blond hair was almost white if not for the sunlight that shed some hue on them.

A string of foreign words that sounded like cursing came from my right side. I’d almost forgotten Eric was still there and had fallen through the same horrid, elevator experience I had. He fared better though; at least he was still on his feet.

“Well, well,” the woman called, sauntering towards us, her movements smooth and casual. “If it isn’t the infamous fire-breathing Eric Zhang. I guess the Wang Group finally learned to be on time.”

“Freya,” Eric hissed. He pointed his burning spear at her. “Back off before things get ugly. This boy’s coming with me.”

I am? I thought, but I was cut off by Freya’s giggling laugh.

“Back off? No, no, we’ve been here much longer than the Wang Group has, backing off isn’t an option when San Francisco belongs to the Sunside. In fact, didn’t you just arrive a few months ago?” She shook her head, her long side ponytail swaying. “Pity. You have no business here, meddling in this poor therapist’s life. It’s a good thing I brought you out before you filled him with more of your nonsense.”

So she’s the one who transported us here. If “transport” was the right word. I attempted to stand but my legs felt queasy.

“Stay down,” Eric said, holding up his spear-free hand. “I’ll handle this.”

“Oh no, let him get up,” Freya cooed. “Let’s see what this latest Dreamer can do.” T

hat word again. Dreamer. It must have been the word for what I was, what I could do. What they could do as well. But who exactly were these people? I glanced at Eric, who had his glare fixed on Freya—he hadn’t even looked at me when he spoke to me. A few meters away, Freya watched me with a condescending glint in her eyes.

They really did think I was some sort of child. Well, it wasn’t as if I asked to be part of their chaotic daycare business. I clenched my fists, braced my elbows on the ground, and pushed myself up, wobbling as I stood on shaky legs.

“Listen,” I said, dusting my hands against my shirt as calmly as possible. “I don't know what’s going on but I can assure you I’m not a part of it and definitely don’t want to be. I’m just running my therapy business.”

“I wish it were that simple kid,” grumbled Eric. “But people like her aren’t going to leave you alone that easily.”

“He’s right,” Freya smiled, her feet sliding into a defensive stance. “You’re just a tad too precious to be left unchecked.”

As soon as she said that, black tendrils burst from her arms and pierced the ground. There was a distant rumbling noise, followed by slight shaking under my feet. I barely had time to react before Eric slammed into me, sending both of us rolling to the side as Freya’s black tendrils shot out of the spot I just stood at seconds ago. I caught a glimpse of the sharp black points that would have ripped me to shreds. I

said I’d never lose to anyone if I got into a fight. I take that back. In one motion, Eric leapt to his feet and threw his spear straight towards Freya. She retracted her tendrils and dodged aside just in time. The spear lodged itself in the pavement behind her. Eric flicked his wrist and it dislodged, slicing past Freya and back to his hand. Freya followed through, rushing forwards and swinging her tendrils like whips towards us. Eric ducked and the tendrils skimmed his head.

Unfortunately, they smacked me right in the face. The force of the impact was much more than a typical whip—it was like getting rammed by a log plank (if it was as painful as it looked in movies). Stars exploded, I felt my head crack to the side, my body was airborne, and then inexplicable pain burst in my shoulder as I slammed into the pavement again, rolling and rolling from the momentum. I vaguely heard Eric scream my name in the distance. My nose was hot, and when I touched it, there was blood.

I cracked open my eyes and the parking lot spun. It didn’t help that two blurry figures were darting this way and that, like a pair of relentless flies. I had just gotten hit by...I didn’t even know what it was. There were a lot of things I didn’t know today. Slowly, my vision began to clear; lines became more defined and I saw someone’s feet walking closer and closer and closer.

“Ouch,” came a feminine voice. “Looks like I did a number on your pretty face.”

I could only groan.

“You look half dead already,” Freya continued. “They didn’t tell me you’d be this easy to kill. Oh well, makes my job easier—”

Something struck her shoulder with enough force to throw her sideways a good distance away. Then Eric’s face filled my vision and I was lifted by the front of my shirt.

“Hey!” Eric yelled. He had a bloody cut on his cheek. “HEY! Liven up! Damn, why are you so easy to kill?”

“Don’t,” I wheezed, “mention it.”

Eric dragged me to my feet. I saw Freya pinned against a car, the spear pierced deep in her shoulder and into the car metal. It didn’t seem to affect her strength though because she was fiercely struggling to pull it out.

“That won’t hold her for long,” said Eric. He grabbed my shoulder. “Listen up. You’re going to run far away from here, put several blocks’ distance between us, and then you’re going to break into the nearest house and sleep in the nearest bed, got it?”

“Break into—”

“When you wake up into the real world, go to this address,” Eric shoved a slip of paper into my hand, “and ask for Bluu Mrengo. Tell him Eric sent you.” He paused. “And that Eric says blue is a horrible color.”

“What—” Eric shoved me in a general direction and shouted, “Go!” just as Freya pulled the spear out of her shoulder and threw it towards me. Eric caught it, and the last thing I saw before I ran was them charging towards each other, Freya’s fan of black tendrils against Eric’s flaming spear.

I stumbled at first but after a few steps and limbs filled with adrenaline, I was sprinting down the sidewalk. The normally crowded streets of San Francisco were deserted—right, I was still in the Dreamworld, and yet that entire battle had felt so real. Was it real? Or was I really in a dream? Run, Jimmy, run. I skidded around another corner. I was lucky it was still the afternoon and few people were asleep; otherwise, the city would have been filled with the silhouettes of people’s sleeping souls and I would have to avoid running into them.

When a knot started growing in my chest and my throat stung from gasping and my thighs ached, I stopped running. I doubled over, waiting for the ringing in my ears to subside. The slip of paper in my fist was wrinkled and a little damp from sweat. I peered over my shoulder. The streets were silent and deserted. I was in a different neighborhood, closer to the center of San Francisco. Colorful homes stretched down the slope, much fancier and in better shape than my own house—although I would give anything to go back to my bedroom and wake up in a familiar place from all this craziness.

Nearest house, huh? I eyed the house closest to me, it’s soft white door decorated with a semicircle window. I hope I don’t get arrested because of this. I went up the steps and opened the door. As expected, there was no one inside. The owners must’ve been awake and out somewhere. It felt wrong to step into someone else’s house uninvited—I’ve always tried not to intrude on other people’s privacy when in the Dreamworld—but desperate times called for desperate measures. Luckily, the bedroom door was open. I went straight for the king-sized mattress and crawled on, taking a moment to appreciate the plush pillows.

Focus, Jimmy, there are people trying to kill you.

I stared at the paper crinkled in my hand. Why had Eric wanted me to sleep somewhere so far away? Maybe because it would be easier to fall asleep with no sounds of battle. But the silence didn’t help; it gave my mind too much room to think and mull over everything that happened. I didn’t want to think. I needed to focus on something else, anything else other than thinking. I read the address on the paper. 610 Market Street, San Francisco. Market Street. The hub of the city. I preferred the quieter suburbs, but I knew how crowded deep San Francisco could be. I read the address over and over, memorizing it so I could get moving as soon as I woke up.

It worked. In the midst of memorization, I fell asleep.