[Night Walkers 02] - Paranoia (2014) Read online

  Jack picked up the camcorder from my desk, pushed a few buttons, and pointed it at the bed. I’d forgotten to check it when we got home, but I didn’t need to. I knew what it would show, and I really didn’t want to see Darkness controlling my body again. I’d already witnessed the results first hand. I reached up and gingerly touched the lump on the back of my head.

  “You may not know anything about our world,” Jack muttered as he adjusted the angle on the camera, “but even you have your good ideas. This was one of them.”

  “Uh … thanks.” I didn’t even try to hide my sarcasm.

  “Come on, let’s go to sleep.” Jack shut down my computer and pulled the extra pillow off the bottom of my bed. “We have a lot of work to do.”

  Nodding without thought, I stood and pulled a sleeping bag out of the back of my closet before his words registered. “Wait—what do you mean, ‘work’?”

  He grabbed the sleeping bag and rolled it out on the floor against the wall. “Why do you think I had us both make eye contact with your mom last?”

  “You did, too?” After watching him pull a toothbrush and an old pair of sweatpants out of his bag, I walked to my dresser and grabbed some flannel pajama pants to wear to bed. “Doesn’t one of us cancel out the other or something?”

  “No. The connection is set up on our end. It’s the last person the Watcher makes eye contact with. Who the Dreamer makes eye contact with doesn’t matter.” Jack zipped his bag closed and looked up at me. “I thought you knew that.”

  “I guess I did … ” I rubbed my fingers through my hair. My hangover headache—or maybe it was just an exhaustion headache now—was coming back with a vengeance. “I just never really thought about it.”

  “Anyway, we’ll both watch your mom’s dreams.” Jack picked up his toothbrush and headed toward the bathroom. Just before he walked out, he turned back to me, his voice low, his expression serious. “Tonight, I’ll start showing you what it means to be type 2—what it means to be a Watcher.”

  chapter eight

  After everything that had happened that day, my brain churned for a while in spite of how tired I was. Jack was snoring softly long before I could relax enough to enter the white void—the place where my mind waited for my Dreamer to go to sleep.

  But the void felt different as soon as I arrived in it. Everything about it appeared the same, but it was like the entire world was vibrating almost imperceptibly beneath it. Like two worlds were fighting to meld together. Now that I thought about it, that was probably exactly what was happening.

  “You always have trouble coming in?” Jack was off to my right, lying down on the white nothingness with his eyes closed.

  “You mean, falling asleep?”

  “Well, we aren’t exactly asleep. Are we?” He didn’t open his eyes or even move. If he weren’t talking, I’d wonder if he somehow got real sleep in the void.

  “Right … is there a name for this?”

  “We call it the Hollow.”

  “Okay, that works.” I looked around. “No, I don’t usually have a hard time. A lot happened today. I was thinking.”

  Jack finally opened his eyes and sat up. “Fair enough.”

  I shifted my weight to face him, but when I looked up, he was gone. “Jack?”

  Where he’d been just an instant ago, there was now nothing. Nothing but me alone in what was apparently called the Hollow. I was starting to wonder if someone or something had woken him when he faded back in, right next to me. I jumped.

  “First lesson.” He lay back down. “You can control whether another person in the Hollow can see you. I could see you the entire time, but you couldn’t see me. I’m betting it’s the same with the Taker and his black hole of a mind that you got stuck in. He could probably see you the entire time, but you didn’t see him at all, right?”

  I shuddered at the memory. “I couldn’t see anything.”

  “Your turn. Make yourself invisible.” Jack closed his eyes.

  I looked at my body, which felt just as real to me here as when I was awake, and then back at Jack’s closed eyes. If he wanted to ask me to do stupid things without telling me how, then he should learn to expect stupid responses. “There. I’m invisible.”

  “You didn’t even do anything.”

  “How do you know? Your eyes are closed.” I leaned back on my elbows and looked at my legs, wondering how on earth I could make them disappear.

  “Just focus on matching yourself to the Hollow. Picture yourself blending into it. It’s constructed half by your mind, half by mine—and you’re awake. You can control it and it shouldn’t be that hard.”

  “No pressure.” I stared at the black clothing I always had on in every dream I’ve ever been in. I’d never tried to change my appearance. Why would I? But it made sense that I should be able to. White clothes would be as real as these black ones. Neither actually existed, after all.

  I pictured my clothes as white as everything around me. It only took a few seconds before I saw a slight flicker. Blinking a few times, I wasn’t sure if I’d really seen it. When I tried again, immediately everything I had on turned as white as the Hollow.

  “Good.” Jack yawned, eyes still closed. “Now do it again.”

  The second he said the words, my clothes turned such a bright color of neon green it hurt my eyes. “What the … did you do that?”

  “Yep. Half your mind, half mine, remember?” Jack sat up and hooked one arm around his knee. “If you’re in here with someone and they want to see you, you’ll have to control your own mind and be stronger than theirs. Now do it—oh, too late—”

  He squinted as he stared around the Hollow before finishing. “Here we go.”

  I tried to see what he was talking about, but nothing had changed. Then I felt it. The vibration had gotten stronger, like a third wavelength had joined the others. How had I never noticed this before? Maybe because there had never been another Watcher before? Then the very familiar sliding sensation came, and we both slipped into Mom’s dream.

  Relief lapped at my nerves just like the waves on the shore in Mom’s dream. Not only did this one not feature any rotting corpses, but Mr. Nelson was nowhere in sight. She’d really outdone herself. The sand was creamy white, the water crystal-clear and so blue. I wondered if she’d ever actually been anywhere like this. We hadn’t traveled at all since Dad left. Her idea of a vacation had become taking off a Saturday and spending it with me doing movie marathons at the Oakville Theater. One Saturday we’d stayed there from the first showing to the last. Funny movies, cartoons, scary ones, even a romantic comedy thrown in. I’d loved every minute of it.

  Even those movie-cations, as Mom dubbed them, had only happened twice. The last time was over two years ago. Maybe I’d suggest we try a real vacation after we got everything with Jack and Dad sorted out. Maybe if I could save him from the Takers he’d want to come ba … no. I grabbed a fist full of warm sand and let it trickle slowly through my fingers.

  I knew better than to hope for that anymore.

  Jack waded through the waves for a minute and walked back as I got on my feet. “Next lesson. You can alter the dreams.”

  I frowned. “I’ve tried that. It didn’t work.”

  “Watch.” Jack walked over to where Mom lounged in a chair, sunglasses pushed back on her head and her eyes closed. She had earbuds in and was humming along to some song I didn’t recognize. Leaning down, Jack reached out his hand and stretched his fingers experimentally, and then shoved his hand right through the side of her head.

  I leaned back in surprise, but she didn’t move, didn’t even open her eyes. Nothing had changed for her.

  Jack’s eyes closed, and then the dream started to change. Storm clouds approached in the distance and the lapping waves got bigger and bigger. Mom opened her eyes and watched the horizon, her brow furrowed.

  “You did that?” I watched the storm across the now-choppy blue surface. It continued to build and move closer every second. Wind kicked up
water in a wet gust and knocked Mom’s drink over.

  “I just planted the seed that a storm was coming. This was a tiny change, and now she’s running with it. How far it goes, how bad it becomes—her brain is controlling that.” Jack sat down on the now-empty beach chair as Mom scrambled around trying to gather her stuff in a bag before it blew away. Sand stung her eyes and her broad white hat blew out into the ocean. The sky darkened and the waves crashed farther and farther up the beach. This was happening faster than it could in real life, but this was a dream storm. It could do anything her brain conjured up.

  And Jack had just set it loose on Mom’s peaceful beach.

  “I’ve seen enough nightmares, thanks. Can you stop it?” My voice was soft, almost carried away by the wild and whipping wind.

  “That’s harder to do once the Dreamer’s mind takes hold like this. It’s better to plant a new seed that changes everything.” Jack climbed out of the chair and walked over to where Mom was frantically trying to stuff her towel into a bag. Every time she got it in, it would somehow fall out again. Tears of fear and frustration filled her eyes as she kept glancing up at the storm.

  Jack extended his fingers again and I braced myself for when he put them into her head. His eyes closed, and then I saw the difference. In the distance, a massive black Hummer barreled up the beach towards us. A small smile crossed Jack’s lips as he stepped back and pulled his hand away.

  The Hummer came to a stop a short way from us and I saw a man climb out of the driver’s side. All I saw was a glimpse of brown hair, only a bit shorter than mine, whipping around his head before he hopped out and disappeared around the other side of the vehicle. Holding his hand up to block his face from the blowing sand, the figure jogged toward us. Everything inside me buckled and I fell to my knees as I watched my dad run up to my mom.

  The moment she recognized him, Mom dropped her bag, her towel … everything. The wind still blew at its frenetic pace, but she didn’t care anymore. She stopped noticing the wind, the storm, the beach, the waves—everything faded into a low background murmur as her brain focused all its attention on her long-lost husband.

  Only it wasn’t him. It wasn’t the man we remembered. This man was muscular and tan. My dad, the chemistry professor, had never been tan in his life—or, it seemed, the life I knew. My father had short hair, always trimmed and neat, not the wavy flopping mess that fell across this stranger’s bearded face.

  But his eyes … his eyes were my eyes, exactly the same in every detail. When he smiled, I recognized the smile, even though it had been years and everything else about his face seemed so different. I still knew him, and my chest felt like it was ready to explode with the strangest combination of resentment and happiness I’d ever experienced.

  Even when every aspect of him was different, somehow he was still a part of me.

  Mom fell into his arms, sobbing, her words unintelligible. Dad pulled her in so tight she almost disappeared against his chest. The voice I hadn’t heard in years whispered words I couldn’t quite make out as he kissed her forehead. After a moment I heard the nickname I’d almost forgotten, even though it was the only name I’d ever heard him call her: “I miss you, Milly.”

  Milly—Dad’s shortened version of my mom’s name, Emily. I choked back my own emotions, reminding myself over and over again that this wasn’t real. It was just a dream. I looked over and found Jack’s eyes on me. He looked pale, and I could see the realization of what he’d done in his face.

  “Stop this.” My voice came out so heavy and rough it felt like each word that rolled off my tongue had physical weight. In spite of my attempts to keep myself under control, every time I looked back toward my parents’ embrace my eyes burned.

  I glared at Jack. After the last few hours, the anger I’d felt at him for disappearing after the fire had started to fade. Not anymore.

  “This”—I gestured toward my parents over my shoulder—“is cruel.”

  Jack looked from my parents back to me, but he made no move to stop it.

  “We didn’t know him like this. She never knew him like this.” I got to my feet and took a step toward Jack. Every piece of me was so filled with pain and newfound fury that my bones ached to release it. “Why would you do this?”

  “This is how I know him! How he is now … ” Jack shook his head. “I implanted this image because you both need to see him this way. Your mom n-needs to recognize him, to know him.”

  “No! We remember him just fine without you forcing this on us!” I roared, and the dream around us seemed to literally shake in response.

  “Parker—” Jack took a faltering step away. “Do not give in to him.”

  His words made no sense. To who? My body and head throbbed with a strange feeling of strength. I felt full … I felt powerful. The sensation was both familiar and new at the same time. My thoughts felt clearer, my emotion purer.

  Jack took another step back, eyes stretched wide, his gaze glued to my face. He looked … afraid. Good. He should be afraid. Every time I caught a glimpse of my parents out of the corner of my eyes, I felt a fresh wave of maddening rage course through my body. Everything in our lives was destroyed when Dad left, and just when we had started to put the pieces back together, Jack was here to remind us of what we’d lost.

  “Why this?” I shouted. The words came out so hard and loud they were like barbed wire, tearing at the soft flesh of my throat as they passed.

  “Because he asked me to!” Jack yelled back. His breath came out in sporadic gushing bursts. I froze in place, thrown off balance by the anguish I saw reflected back at me. “Do you think he wants you to forget him? All these years, he’s still hoped that someday he could lea—come back. You’ve both always been everything he ever wanted. You were the hole no one else could fill no matter how hard they tried. You two are the only thing he ever wanted.”

  His voice trailed off and he looked away, at the water, the ground—anything but me. I recognized the empty pain in his eyes … but my rage burned ever hotter in spite of it. My fingers clenched and unclenched at my sides, aching to take action. I could almost imagine punching Jack. Hitting him again and again and again. I could take all those years of pain and frustration I’d built up and just let go.

  And it would feel so good to let all that go.

  I wanted to hurt him and end the pain he was causing. For daring to act wounded that he hadn’t been able to fully take my place the way he’d so obviously wanted to, to punish him for doing this to me—and to Mom.

  Simultaneously, somewhere deep inside my head a crevice formed, a tiny line with new cracks splitting off it as I began to question. A brief flash of clarity told me I should feel sympathy. Jack seemed angry and bitter that my dad would choose someone else instead of him. That he would leave him for us if given the chance. As wrong as that emotion sounded to me, how many times had I had the same thought? I knew Jack’s pain, even if I didn’t believe he had a right to feel it about my father.

  I kicked my toe hard into the sand in front of me. It flew up into the air and Jack sputtered, rubbing it out of his eyes. He’d be such an easy target. A growl escaped my chest, but it felt strange—foreign. My left hand reached out, grasping for Jack’s shirt. He disappeared … just like he said he could. I focused and made him visible again with my mind. It was so much easier now, like flipping a switch. His eyes went wide and I grabbed him again and forced him to stay put. Why was I getting angrier even now? Something didn’t make sense … I stared at my right hand, now so tightly clenched it seemed to have a mind of its own. Then Jack’s words echoed through my head again, and I abruptly understood what he meant.

  Do not give in to him.

  I’d never felt so complete. Part of me had always seemed empty—I’d thought it was fear and exhaustion causing it, but even when I’d been happy and rested from Mia’s dreams, the hole was still there. I’d wondered if it could be from missing Dad, but it was none of those things. I felt strong now in spite of the exhaustion
that had begun building up again this week, and I knew now what was causing this raw feeling of power. I knew the source of my rage.

  As Jack had said, I was Divided, and this was how it felt to be whole again—to become one with Darkness.

  It felt fantastic.

  My hand clenched as I lowered it to my side. I took one more step forward and Jack tripped backward into the sand, breaking my hold on his shirt. A slow smile slid across my face like a shadow at the end of day … until I remembered.

  There was a reason this feeling was familiar. I’d felt this way before—only once. Only one time ever, but now that I felt it again, I couldn’t deny it anymore. I had been one with Darkness in Dr. Freeburg’s dream.

  There was no more room for doubt. I had killed Dr. Freeburg—I had murdered him.

  The confirmation of my greatest fear broke me. It sapped my strength like a vacuum, tore my soul in two. Two pieces like it had been, like it should be, like it should always stay.

  Because when I became whole—people died.

  Do not give in to him.

  chapter nine

  Darkness screamed so loud in my head it felt like I was being shredded. I crouched over in the sand, shoving my hands against my ears in a futile attempt to muffle something that wasn’t real. I heard a curse from Jack as he climbed to his feet and walked to my mom. I assumed he did one of his Watcher tricks because within a few moments I could hear Mom talking to one of her coworkers and the sand I’d been resting on turned into the carpet of her office.

  I focused on the air filling my chest, in and out …

  repeated endlessly. Until Darkness stopped trying to make our brain explode, it was all I could do. Most of my anger had been ripped away with him, and the sound that echoed inside my head wasn’t one of anger. He was in horrible agony. Separating into two again had caused Darkness physical pain. It was exhausting. I once again felt the gaping hole of being Divided—but the separation didn’t hurt me the way it did him.