Nightmare

Kendi had achieved enough mastery of the Dream, Ara told him, he would be able to overcome part of his subconscious and instantly take himself to other 'parts' of the Dream without having to walk there.

Kendi clambered over a pile of rocks. One of them was a shade of brilliant red that matched the color of Ben’s hair. Kendi ran a hand over his face. Ben. In the last three days, he had found himself constantly thinking of Ben. They had spent several hours together the day after the party. Ben had shown Kendi his weight machine and the computer system he had cobbled together out of spare and rebuilt parts. They had played a few sim games and then had traipsed down the stairs all the way to the bottom of the talltree forest. The cool, slightly gloomy depths with its waist-high ground cover and loamy earth made a stark contrast to the wooden walkways high in the air. They had hiked aimlessly about, keeping a sharp eye out for dinosaurs and seeing none, talking about nothing in particular.

Twice Kendi almost put his arm around Ben’s shoulders, then held back. Pup and Pitr had taught him it wouldn’t be a good idea. When Ben had smiled on the walkway outside the party that night-

Kendi swallowed. That smile, rare as a winter flower, had gone straight through him. He could still picture it when he closed his eyes at night, and it kept reappearing in his dreams.

All life, he thought. You’ve got it bad.

He forced himself to concentrate on Dorna as he walked. Her voice was growing louder now. As he got closer, he took several deep breaths and gradually relinquished his expectations of the landscape. He did not expect dry, sandy soil or a blue sky or spiny spinniflex plants. He expected nothing. This was hard to do, and it slowed Kendi down. If he came into Dorna’s space without releasing his own expectations of the environment, his and Dorna’s minds would end up fighting for control. The stronger mind would win out, and the losing mind would feel a certain amount of discomfort, or even pain. Dream etiquette demanded that the Silent moving into the other person’s turf released all expectations, just as a visitor in a solid world home would adapt to the rules and customs of the host. To newcomers like Kendi, however, this wasn’t always easy.

Kendi eased forward another step and another. The Outback melted slowly away. Kendi worked hard to keep his mind blank. Twice rocks and scrubby plants faded into view around him and Kendi took several breaths to banish them. More steps forward, and Kendi finally found himself at wrought-iron gate set into a stone wall. Clothes faded into existence on his body until he was wearing khaki trousers and a flannel shirt. Clothing, of course, was always provided by the host Silent.

Kendi pushed the gate open and stepped into a lush, well-kept garden. He looked around curiously. So this was Dorna’s turf. Flowering bushes and shrubs were everywhere, and the grass was clipped so that every blade was the same length. Flowers were laid in rows with military precision. Not one stray leaf marred the perfect lawn.

On a stone bench sat a figure with her back turned to Kendi. She wore a half-cloak with the hood drawn over her hair. Dorna. Kendi smiled and strode toward her. Abruptly she twisted around on the bench. Kendi hissed and backed up a step.

'Who the hell are you?' she demanded.

Kendi stared. It wasn’t Dorna at all. The woman on the bench was old, with wild white hair and snaggle teeth. She even had a wart on her nose like a fairy tale witch.

'Sorry,' Kendi stammered. 'I was looking for someone else.'

'You’re intruding in my garden,' the old woman screeched. 'Get the fuck out of my garden!'

'Hey, it’s all right,' Kendi said, still backing away. 'You don’t have to freak. I was just leaving.'

'Get out!' howled the woman. 'Get him, boys!'

Kendi wondered who she was talking to. Then a rosebush lunged for him. Thorns raked across Kendi’s arm, tearing his shirt and leaving a set of white-hot scratches along his skin. Ivy twirled around his feet and ankles. Kendi turned and ran, tearing up the green vines and losing a shoe in the process. Another thorny bush scored his cheek. The grass lengthened and threatened to trip him. He dove for the gate, fear clutching his stomach.

'That’s right,' cackled the woman behind him. 'Run from Zelda and her garden. Get out, you little shit!'

Kendi shoved the gate open and fled, bleeding and trailing bits of ivy. He ran until his legs ached and his lungs threatened to burst. When he finally stopped, he was back in the Outback. His clothes had vanished, but his arm and cheek were still bleeding.

'All life,' he muttered. 'What a bitch.' It wasn’t as if he had trespassed on purpose. He had thought she was Dorna. Obviously his tracking needed a little work, but that didn’t mean the old lady-Zelda, she’d said her name was-had to shape her garden to attack him like that.

His arm and cheek hurt like hell. Kendi stared down at the scratches, willing them to disappear. His body was whole and unharmed. It was so and would be so …now.

Blood continued to flow. It dripped from his face down to his shoulder. Kendi was pretty sure that his body was bleeding as it lay on his bed in his room. Psychosomatic wounds, Ara called them. Whatever harm the Dream body encountered was usually visited on the solid one. Some Silent could overcome this, but not many. Kendi, obviously, wasn’t one of them yet. Maybe he should leave the Dream and get some medical-

A wave of nausea washed over him. Kendi staggered, regained his balance. What the hell? he thought. Then he felt it, a …disturbance. He couldn’t think of any other way to describe it. It was as if someone had just dropped something disgusting into a pool of water and Kendi could feel the ripples. He turned toward the feeling. A bad taste rose in his mouth and he spat. What was going on?

Curious despite the discomfort, Kendi trotted against the ripples, following them to their source. As he moved, the Outback faded again, this time with little effort on Kendi’s part. That meant, he knew, that a very strong mind was at work, one that could easily shake off Kendi’s puny attempt to hold onto his desert. An archway stood before him in the middle of a featureless plain. The disturbance was on the other side of the arch. Kendi stepped through.

He found himself in a giant living room. A hodge-podge of furniture-fainting couches, end tables, a variety of chairs and sofas, and low bookshelves-stood on a crazy quilt of mismatched rugs and carpets. Kendi came to an instant halt and almost cried out. On one of the sofas lay a woman. She was blond and middle-aged, with plump arms and a heavy chest. A gold medallion hung between her breasts. Chains that seemed to have sprouted from the couch itself held her down. Blood from a dozen dripping cuts and slashes covered her body, and she made faint mewling noises. Standing over her with his back to Kendi was a tall man. As Kendi watched in frozen horror, he made a swift slash with the knife. There was a snapping noise. The woman cried out, but only weakly, as one of her fingers dropped to the cushions. The man caught it up and held it like a pencil. Kendi still couldn’t move. With deliberate care, the man wrote 14 in blood on the woman’s forehead. The woman convulsed once, then went still.

'Shit!' Kendi gasped.

The man dropped the finger and spun. He was wearing a hat with a wide brim that was pulled low. Kendi couldn’t see his face. Before Kendi could react, the man lunged.

CHAPTER TEN

I witnessed it once but it stayed with me forever.

— Irfan Qasad

Kendi backpedaled, fear humming through his veins. The brim of the hat cast a shadow that hid most of the man’s face, but Kendi could see his mouth twisted into an animal snarl. Kendi whirled and dashed for the arch. Abruptly the arch snapped shut. Kendi slammed into a solid wall. Dazed, he felt hard hands grab his shoulders. They spun him around and a hard blow drove Kendi to his knees. Blood dripped from his nose, mingling with the blood from the cuts on his cheek. All Kendi could see was a pair of shins in front of him. One of them drew back to deliver a kick. Kendi drove himself forward, slamming into the man. Surprised, the man went over backward with a grunt. Kendi scrambled over him. He caught a blurred glimpse of the woman’s bloody corpse on the sofa.