I sighed and waited. The frisbee flew another ten thousand times in that innumerable period. I had my phone, or some appearance of it, but the only thing it could do was play Candy Crush Saga. Whenever I tried to look at the time or pictures, everything was blurry and faded; as if the Dream couldn't predict exactly what I wanted and therefore it couldn't deliver.
Jarrett finally grew tired of the frisbee and fell asleep, his head flopped on my lap. I scratched his ear as I tried to make all the little candies inevitably tasty. Or so delicious. The voice was all wrong, tinny and shrill, like they'd miniaturized the poor guy. I wrinkled my nose at it and turned it off.
And then the dog vanished. My brows raised at the spot he'd once occupied. That was different. I checked the phone in my hand to watch it ooze through my fingers, dripping on the grass around me. Ants the size of horses rattled past me, intent on tearing apart the world. Each of them grabbed a chunk of grass, of sky, and carried it away with them. I didn't dare move, hoping that they wouldn't notice me. The last thing I wanted was to be carried off, too.
Maybe the Dream had realized I didn't want any part of it and had decided to get rid of me. The ants ripped everything apart except for my tiny plot of land and vanished into the distance in a hoard of Black Friday shoppers. I curled up on my little tuft of green and swallowed. I'd complained about throwing the frisbee for the dog, the frisbee having been snatched by the ants, too. But at least it'd been something to do.
I sat in a void, in a big open area of nothingness, and I plucked at the grass beneath me to try to settle my nerves.
"This isn't going to be comfortable for her," my mother said. "We can't do it any other way. Expect her to come out screaming, maybe fighting. Do we have any restraints?"
"I'm sure Edwin could loan us something."
Scribe's voice echoed the area and a breath of hope fluttered to life inside of me. If he was really out of the hospital, maybe I was really about to be released from the Dream. It wasn't likely; Allison had known Scribe well enough to imitate him for certain and she had all my memories of him to draw from, too. It would be easy to fabricate him, but maybe not so much to sneer about Edwin's secret trunk of wonders.
I only knew about that because of a night they'd needed to keep me... occupied.
How the hell did Scribe know about it?
I was suddenly being forced into a tube, smashed with my arms flat at my sides. I couldn't breathe, couldn't see. Was this what being born was like? Fuck, no wonder kids came out looking traumatized. The grass vanished and only darkness reigned around me, fascinating but foreboding. I closed my eyes against it all and hoped beyond hope that this wasn't some fresh horror Allison's ghost had thought up, but rather that I was really being saved.
Reality shattered around me and I was in a bed, soft and warm. Nate held me down to the headboard, his hands familiar and reassuring. I blinked up into those gorgeous amber eyes and smiled. "Are you real?"
"Pretty sure I am, Strikes."
I blinked at him, then turned my head to look at a matched set of people. They were in their elder years, each of them with dark hair and weathered faces. And they were dressed exactly alike, blue shirts and blue jeans. I couldn't see their boots, but I assumed that they matched, too. I searched the room for Scribe, but he was nowhere to be found. Edwin, Adam, and, unsurprisingly, Nishelle, were missing, too.
"I think I'm safe to get up," I told him and Nate released me.
To be honest, I'd have been just fine with it if he'd wanted to hold me down a little longer. I'd have just needed my parents to get out. But you can't have everything in life, I suppose.
My mother came forward with a penlight and shone it in my eyes. "Name, birthday, alias."
"Cassandra Clark, Strikeout, and that's not what you're supposed to ask ladies," I said, flinching away from the brightness. "How long have I been out?"
It wasn't as if the Dream had been a dark place, but I had a feeling that didn't matter to my actual eyes. If the way they felt was right, I'd been down for ages.
"A day," Mom said. "Maybe a few hours more, but not enough to cringe like you've never seen a flashlight before. Everything feel right?"
She offered me her hand to help me up. I grabbed the bed and pushed myself up instead. "I feel like I haven't moved in a century. Where's everyone else? Still stuck?"
"Of course not. You were the only one capable of getting yourself into such a mess. It took you long enough to Awaken, but I suppose some of us just have to change our skillset in our 30s, don't we, dear?"
I gripped the knob on the end of the bed for support and froze. No, it wasn't true. She was just pulling my leg and enjoying the confusion. Mom had always been the sort to headfuck we kids, even in games as simple and sweet as hide-and-go-seek. Slowly, I turned to stare at her, but it was Dad that answered.
"We'll have to get you into training as soon as we can. Scribe's gone to see what we can do about that, given your endlessly busy schedule with all these men."
Nate shrugged. "There's only three of us, sir, begging your pardon.
