Episode Five
Now Surveying Alta California.
I stared up at the sign, blinking against the whisper of light that fell upon its reflective surface. Gray clouds swarmed overhead, twisting and writhing like specters, and as I gazed upon them they seemed to darken.
I knew I was in a dream. I had been here before. How odd that I would start in the same place I had ended last.
“That’s strange,” I said below my breath. “Never had a dream pick up like that before.”
A cold shiver ran down my back, and I glanced at the open field to my left. I expected to see him, the man in black. The memory of him was vivid, as vivid as the rest of this world. But there was nothing there save wide sandy plains and sparse bits of crab grass.
I kept walking, past the signpost and deeper into the nothing beyond. The road before me faded from solid concrete to broken, jagged slabs, and eventually to pebble and dirt. Still, I followed where it led. I walked until my shoes felt slick with blood, and my body was heavy. I walked until an unyielding ache had settled in my bones. I wanted to collapse on the side of the road, to lay down in the warm, soft sand, and let the winds cover me in it as they passed. I wanted to sleep, and rest, and wake up with my wife and daughter at my side.
But even as my feet stumbled forward, I saw something in the distance. It wavered on the horizon, dipping below my line of sight as I crested a rise, reappearing as I slipped down the other side. The closer I got, the more clear it all became. It was a town. A small town, one that seemed trapped in the past.
The road began to harden beneath my feet with each step, slowly turning to stone slab. There was a strange sort of déjà vu that accompanied it, like I was doing something over again, this time in reverse. With a shake of my head, I pushed further into the town.
This place had an eerie charm about it. Small shops lined the sides of the street, vintage cars parked along the curb on either side. Hand painted signs hung in the windows, each one a declaration –malt shop, arcade, bookstore, and so on. Girls ran past in fluffy skirts and frilly socks, boys chasing after them with their suspender straps dangling at their hips. Vendors in corner stalls had magazines and newspapers brimming out of their baskets. It seemed a quaint place, a quiet place. Somewhere wholesome and of another time.
Glancing across the street, I noticed a diner. Even through the window I could see the white and black checkered floor and the long counter with red cushioned stools. It was almost like looking at a photograph from the 1950’s. It called to me, beckoned me inside, and I followed without resistance. It was only a dream, after all. Might as well indulge my impulses.
A bell chimed above me as I entered the diner, its sweet echo bouncing back from the corners to shower me in song. Inside was even more picturesque than I’d imagined. Double-wide booths lined the walls and windows, most of which were filled with love-struck teens holding hands and sharing a basket of fries. Waitresses uniformed in a gaudy shade of blue scrambled from the counter to the booths and back again, their arms laden with plates and pitchers, their faces frozen in a smile.
“Pick whatever spot you like, hon,” a woman’s voice called. I glanced behind the counter, only to find a middle-aged blonde staring in my direction. I nodded, swallowing back the strangeness of it all, and made my way to a nearby booth. No sooner had I slipped inside than the blonde appeared with a pad in her hand, the smile on her lips never quite reaching her eyes.
“What can I get ya?” she asked, her manner brisk and bored.
“Water, please,” I said. “And a coffee.”
“Sure thing, handsome.” She turned to go, the mask of politeness already falling, when I grabbed her arm.
“Can I ask you a question?” I said, fingers relaxing against her arm.
She pulled away then, taking a small step back from the table. Then she sighed, swallowing back whatever retort she’d been thinking of, and smiled. “Sure, hon. What is it?”
It’s only a dream, Rhett, I reminded myself. Who cares how crazy you sound? None of this is real. So why was there a tight knot of dread in the pit of my stomach?
“This might sound a little strange,” I began, “but…where are we?”
She laughed, a hoarse, throaty sound. “Where do you think we are?”
“California,” I said, my voice more sure than I felt.
“Alta California, yeah. You’re not from around here, are you?” Her dark eyes studied me then, as if seeing me for the first time.
“No.” I shook my head. “I’m not. Got a little bit lost on my way through and I’m not sure what town I’ve landed in.” I’m not sure why I felt the need to lie, but it rolled so easily off my tongue that I couldn’t stop it.
The waitress gave a knowing nod. “Happens all the time, don’t worry. This is Os Ovo. We’re about a three hour drive from the Golden Gate bridge, if you’re looking to get out of the state.”
I breathed a silent sigh of relief. The Golden Gate bridge. For all the changes my mind had made, it was comforting to know that some things remained the same.
“And, not to sound too deranged but…we’re in America, right?”
I couldn’t help but notice the way her smile faltered ever so slightly, and the way she took a half-step back. Her dark eyes seemed wary, and the laugh that left her lips was brittle and sharp as broken glass.
“We’re in the United Colonies,” she replied, brow furrowing. “Where or what is America?”
I left the moment she turned her back.
It’s just a dream, that’s all. It’s a very strange dream, I’ll give you that, but that’s all it is.
So why did my throat crackle and burn with thirst? And why did my bones creak with every step I took? My heart thundered, rocking so hard against my ribs I thought they would crack. If this was a dream, it was more real than any dream I’d ever had before.
I decided at that moment that I would leave Os Ovo and make my way back home. Exploring the rest of Alta California seemed both daunting and dangerous, like there were millions of other secrets out there waiting to find me. I didn’t want to know what they were, didn’t want to see the twisted ways my mind had altered my life’s narrative. I couldn’t be sure why this was happening, or what I was supposed to learn from it. All I knew was that I wanted the comfort of my own bed, and more than anything, I wanted to wake up.
I took the road back at an amble, eager to rest my aching feet. I had walked farther than I thought, and every step I took outside of Os Ovo felt like a weary blade against my soles. I did what I could to ease the passage of time, but my thoughts were dull companions, begging the same questions again and again. If this was a dream, then what was the point of it? Why had I returned to the same place, the same moment in time I had left? And why had I created a place so very different from what I’d ever dreamed of, from what I had ever known?
By the time I reached home, my head was raw with the splinters of each question, a pounding headache throbbing behind my eyes. I wondered vaguely if this time I would find the house occupied, full of the laughter and love I had come to expect from my girls. But in my heart I knew there was nothing waiting for me, nothing but empty halls and loneliness.
I stumbled up the steps, my weary feet desperate for reprieve, and as I peeled the shoes and socks from my feet I groaned. I ran my toes through the shag carpet, reveling in the softness before collapsing on the couch. It was all I could do to keep my head up, but my eyes lingered on a picture set at the end of the sofa.
It was a picture of Valerie and Meadow. They sat together on a red checkered blanket, and between them a wicker picnic basket lay carelessly on its side. They had their arms wrapped around each other, radiant smiles turned up toward the sun. I’d never truly known pain before, but I did in that moment. It cut me open down to the bone, exposing all of the dark things inside of me. The anger and the confusion and the fear poured out of me as I stared at their picture, and much as I tried to stem the flow of hurt, I couldn’t.
I grabbed the picture and tore it from the frame. It seemed silly, but at that moment I thought that perhaps, if I could find them in this dream world, they might return to me in the waking world. I wasn’t sure if I really believed it, or if I was just grasping at straws. All I knew was that sitting there, day after day, unable to do anything to help them left a wound in me. A wound that was festering with each passing minute. So, I resolved to do what I could in this dream world, if I ever came back, and maybe, just maybe, I’d find a way to see them again.
Slipping the picture into my pocket, I glanced out the window and smiled. I didn’t have much to rely on at that moment, but for the first time, I had hope.
—
My eyes felt raw, like someone had ground sand into them, and I winced at the pulsing pain in my temples. If that was a dream, it seemed the headache, at least, was real. I blinked the bleariness from my eyes and struggled to sit. The hospital room was dark, except for the alarmingly bright light above my bed, and the faint wisp of white streaming in from the door’s window. The monitors at my bedside continued their chorus of beeps and chimes, an incessant, nagging collection of sounds that bored into my skull and remained long past their welcome.
When I’d fallen asleep it was early afternoon. Now, darkness had descended outside, the black backdrop of night an ominous shadow beyond my window. I stared at it for some time, trying not to wither into obscurity as the minutes passed. I wanted to do something, anything that might help. But there was nothing I could do. I was powerless, helpless, and knowing that made the suffering all the more unbearable.
Hours passed as I stared out the window. A new nurse came to check on me. She had stern eyes, but her mouth smiled easily and often. I asked her about Val and Meadow, but it was more of the same. They were stable, but still comatose. A knot of frustration settled somewhere beneath my ribs, but I smiled and thanked her just the same.
I didn’t notice when she left, or when the next nurse came. I was alone in the world of the living, and for all the good it did me, I began to wish that I was back in my dreams. It was strange to think of them as a haven from this place, as if they were some kind of comfort rather than an exercise in futility. The truth was I was no better off there than here, the only difference was in that world I felt some sense of agency. Even if it wasn’t real, it was something. And somehow, that made all the difference.
I lay back in my bed, waiting for sleep to come. I resigned myself to my fate, resigned myself to the part of the grieving husband and father. When the first faint whispers of morning light slipped over the window sill, I told the nurses I wanted to spend as much time next to my daughter and wife as I could. They smiled and said I could visit, their tacit way of telling me I’d get no lenience from them, and gave me details on my MRI. I didn’t care. All I cared about was seeing Val and Meadow again. I would have done anything to make that happen.
I stared out the window, watching the sky. It was a living painting, one brushed with rose and sapphire hues. They wove together in a seamless blend of color, one that changed minute by minute. Pink gave way to the golden glow of the sun, streaks of indigo and cobalt warming to a pale powder blue as the morning wore on. Still, I lay there, lost inside myself. It wasn’t until nurse Cathy appeared that my mood lifted, and by then I was sick of my own company and grateful for the reprieve she provided.
“And how are we today?” Cathy asked, puttering about the room, fussing with the curtains and checking my chart.
“No offense, but I hate it here,” I managed, croaking a laugh.
She snorted and gave me a knowing smile. “It’s tough being in here, I know. Is there anybody that can come and spend some time with you? I find that helps a lot of patients.”
“Both my parents are gone,” I said, struggling to prop myself up on my elbows. “I suppose I could call Val’s mother and sister. I’m sure they’re desperate for answers.”
“I know the mother’s been contacted,” Cathy said, making her round through the room and stopping to rearrange the pillows behind me.
“When?”
“When you three first arrived. None of you were conscious, and because you and her mother were her emergency contacts, we notified Mrs. Salvo. We would have notified someone for you, but you didn’t have anyone else listed.”
That’s because I don’t have anyone else, I thought bitterly. Meadow and Val are all I have in this world.
“Did Alyssa mention if she was coming here?” I asked, accepting the cup of water Cathy offered.
“Alyssa?”
“Mrs. Salvo,” I clarified.
“Oh, yes, she said she would try. She mentioned being out of state and having some things to take care of before coming down. It might be best to give her a call, Rhett. It’s been a week and a half since you were admitted. I’m sure she’d be happy to hear from you.”
“I doubt that,” I said softly. “No mother wants to hear that her daughter and granddaughter are in a coma from some unknown illness. If I had answers to give her, it might be different.”
Cathy sighed and sat at the edge of my bed, folding her hands over her lap. “I’m a mother, Rhett. And I can tell you one thing for sure. If my daughter and grandbaby were in the hospital, no matter what their condition, I’d want my son in law to call me. I’d want to know he was okay just as much as I’d want to know they were okay. So, stop being a baby and give her a call.”
I laughed, a full bellied, groaning laugh. It felt good, like I’d stretched a muscle that had atrophied long ago. It didn’t last long, but it gave me a glimmer of hope. Then the laughter died in my throat, and a darker thought whispered to me.
“I wanted to check on a patient,” I said as she rose from the bed and moved to check my monitors. “Two patients, actually. Well…potential patients. Adaline Crawford and Hannah Huang.”
“I’ll check on the names for you,” she assured, patting my hand with a plaintive smile.
“Thank you.”
That afternoon I visited Val. She was just as lifeless as before, just as vacant and hollow. I read to her and held her hand, kissed her forehead and whispered memories into her ear. I hoped that she could feel my presence, could feel how much I loved her and wanted her to come home to me. I hoped that being there would trigger something, would awaken something in her that would help set her free. But when I left her room, she remained unchanged.
After that I had my MRI. Tucked away inside the claustrophobia inducing tube of whirring machinery, I closed my eyes and thought of my dream world. It was still so vivid it almost felt like I was there. I could feel every mound of dirt beneath my feet, could smell the earth and the sweat on my skin, could feel the searing heat of the sun on my skin. I don’t know how long I was trapped there, inside the machine and inside my head, but when I finally emerged exhaustion rattled my bones.
Even though I was eager to return to my dream world, there were things I needed to do. I made my way to Meadow’s room, stalking the halls on silent feet. She was the same as her mother, her body still as stone in her bed. The only comfort I found in all of this was the warmth of her hand against mine. It reminded me that she was still alive, even if her mind wasn’t here. She was somewhere, and I had to believe that I would find her. That I would bring her home.
I stayed with her for a time, studying her face. Memories of her as a little girl played on a loop behind my lids every time I closed my eyes. I tried to capture the beauty of those moments and hold them close, but they were of little comfort. Heartsick and filled with a profound exhaustion, I headed back to my room. I needed sleep. My body was weary, almost as weary as my soul, and I wanted nothing more than to collapse on my bed and drift into that empty space of sleep. So, it was a surprise when I entered my room and found Cathy waiting there for me.
“How are you feeling, Rhett?” she asked. This time there was no trace of a smile and no pretense of warmth in her voice.
“I’ve been better,” I said, shuffling over to the bed and dropping down onto it with a groan. “Whatever the hell it is making us sick is honestly kicking my ass. I’m so tired I can’t think straight.”
“It’ll take time,” she said. “But you’ll get there.”
“I assume this isn’t a social visit,” I said, tucking my legs beneath the blanket. Already I could feel the lull of sleep pulling me, its fingers hooking into my eyelids and dragging them down. I wanted to give in, but something was telling me not to.
“You wanted me to find out about those two girls, Adaline Crawford and Hannah Huang?”
My eyes popped open, a prickle of fear slicing through me.
“I found them,” she said, her expression pained. “They’re here, Rhett. They were brought in the same night as you.”
I swallowed hard around the sudden tightness in my throat. I knew the answer before I asked the question, but I asked it all the same. “Are they comatose as well?”
“Yes. They are.”
My heart sank into my stomach. “I’d like to see them,” I said, struggling to climb out of bed.
“You will,” Cathy said with a nod. She gripped my legs in her thick fists and pushed me back onto the bed. “But not today. You need to rest, you need to take your medicine, and you need to find a way to relax. You’re not doing them any favors by spreading yourself so thin. All you’re doing is prolonging your healing.”
Much as I hated to admit it, she was probably right. I hated the idea of the girls being alone, even if they weren’t awake to know it, but after visiting Val and Meadow and going through the MRI earlier, I’d stretched every last ounce of energy to its limit. I was spent.
“Get some sleep,” Cathy urged. “I’ll leave their room information for when you wake up.”
She passed me a small paper cup, and inside were five pills of varying colors and sizes. “Take these.”
“What are they?” I asked, feeling more than a little doubtful.
“Some will help with the pain,” she said, “one will help you sleep, one is an antibiotic for any potential infection you might have, and the last one is for inflammation.”
“You really tried to hit all the bases with this cocktail, huh?” I tipped the cup back and swallowed all of the pills in one gulp, shuddering at the chalky, acrid taste they left behind.
“Until we know exactly what’s happened to make you ill, or until the doctors think you’re out of the woods, this is the best we can do.”
“And the MRI?” I asked. “When will I know the results of it?”
“A few days,” she said, mouth making that familiar easy smile. “As soon as they’re in we’ll le you know. Until then, try not to worry too much about it.”
Cathy made a few notes on my chart before heading for the door.
“Thank you,” I called out to her as she lingered in the doorway. “For telling me about the girls. I appreciate you looking into that for me.”
She smiled, and for the first time that night it seemed truly genuine. “Anytime. Now get some sleep.”
She didn’t need to tell me. I was out before she closed the door.
(Read Episode 6 by clicking the Page 2 Link Below)