IN ONE OF his dreams that night, Steven found himself standing in a timberland of tall leafless trees. The trunks and branches were so gnarled they seemed to take on the qualities of facial features. If Steven had understood the concept of animism, he would have believed it existed in this dream forest. He walked without fear among the trees. They were powerful beings, but benevolent ones. He reached toward one particularly old tree, wanting to draw courage from the antiquity of it.
But someone was pressing a hand on his shoulder, urging him to do . . .
. . . something.
Go ’way.
Wake up. It’s time to go now.
The trees faded and Steven was disjointedly aware of being in Tatiana’s bedroom. The pressure remained on his shoulder, the shaking persisted.
Wake up!
“N-no,” Steven mumbled, half into his pillow. “S’dark out.”
You have to leave tonight. You’re going to come to us, Steven. We need you.
Marty?
Steven was suddenly completely awake and aware. He realized there was no one touching him.
Get dressed. If you don’t come, we’ll die. We are a unit, and without you we are incomplete.
Earlier in the day, when he’d been more alert, he’d been able to argue with Marty. But now, driven by a force too powerful to resist, he got up and did as he was told. Moving as if still in a dream, he was ready to leave the house in twenty minutes. Carrying his suitcase, he crept downstairs.
Money, you’re going to need money.
I don’t have any.
Find some.
I don’t want to steal!
You can mail it back someday. This is an emergency! Do you know where you can get some?
Steven thought, and remembered that Helga kept money in a jar in the kitchen. She used it for emergencies. He went there and was surprised to find one hundred eighty-six dollars, a few quarters, and one dime. He shoved it all into his pocket.
What do I do now?
You have to get to the airport. When you arrive, I’ll tell you what to do next.
Marty, I’m scared.
But Marty was gone again. It disturbed Steven how easily the other boy faded in and out of his mind, but not enough to make him go back upstairs and forget this whole idea. With a sigh of resignation, he opened the back door and walked out onto the patio. He carefully closed and locked the door behind him. Then he walked as quietly as he could around to the front of the house. The street was shadowy and deserted, as asleep as the people in the houses that ran down either side of it. Still, Steven expected that any minute someone would catch him. A dog would start barking, or someone who was up late would glance out a window, or . . .
Panic began to overtake him. He started to run, heading toward the main road.
He no longer thought of resisting the call to join Marty and the “others.”