The people of East Timor were 98 percent Catholic, and this showed in its landmarks, buildings, and its famous statues all having a very Christian theme, particularly the well-known churches the tour bus driver pointed out to us on the way out of the city. Of course, the main stop was the Cristo Rei statue as Chloe had predicted. Personally, I found that if you’d seen one statue with Jesus spreading his arms, you’d seen them all.
Since the bus was making frequent stops so we could take photos, Keri didn’t hesitate to try and round us all up for one. We all posed in front of it with our own arms open.
“Do you ever think Jesus and his apostles posed like this and Jesus was all like ‘Come on, guys. We can’t all do big arms,’” I joked.
“Another plagiarized joke, Noah?” Chloe accused. “Eddie Izzard this time.”
“Good catch.”
We waited for another bus heading farther east. Although the bus ride was going to be a long one, unlike the plane ride, we could enjoy the countryside and decided to forego escaping into the Dream State again. Although it was mostly green hills and the occasional small suburb, I thought it would be a waste if I just did what I always did when in a new country.
When are we going to be here again?
Brock continued reading his electronic guidebook, pointing out the occasional fact as we passed by the green countryside.
“Did you know that this place has the highest rate of doctors per capita?” he said but then pointed to the bus driver, who was tapping his cigarette into an ashtray. “Handy considering this place has one of the highest rates of smoking-related illness. Even after alternatives like vaping and the like became popular, it’s still one of their most consumed items.”
“I never really got smoking,” Keri said.
I frowned. “It’s an addictive substance. What’s not to get?”
“I mean, sure, but is addiction worth all the downsides, the health problems, the smell, the cost? They’re essentially burning money.” She watched disgustedly as the man flicked the end of the butt out of the bus window. “Not to mention the litter. There are some tiled floors that seem to be separated by filters alone.”
Brock looked out the window, eyes squinting as the sun went behind a cloud. “If one of those things would stop them, they wouldn’t do it, but the fact that they don’t is why it’s considered an addiction.”
David nodded. “So, has anyone heard of any cases linking the Dream State to insomnia?”
“That was a strange segue,” Chloe murmured.
“I just thought I would bring it up considering we were talking addictions.”
Keri suddenly looked away, as though losing interest in the conversation. I, on the other hand, suddenly began to get interested.
“Is there any research done on it to say it’s a fact?” I asked
Brock nodded. “It is true, but it’s to do with the DSD rather than the Dream State itself. I’ve done enough reading on the phenomenon to know that it’s not just a correlation. It’s the same effect that people get when they become too reliant on sleeping pills. They first have trouble sleeping without them and then, when they try to get off them, they can end up as insomniacs. It’s the same with DSD. After all, it has hypnotic properties just like sleeping pills.”
I looked around the bus at my friends, realizing we were now the only people on it. “Have any of you been having trouble getting regular sleep when not on DSD?”
Everyone shook their heads. Everyone but Keri.
“Keri?” I said and she looked up as though waking from a daydream. “Have you been having trouble sleeping?”
She looked shocked for a moment but then gazed down at her lap. “No, but someone I know who plays in the Dream State a lot has been.”
“Seriously?” David burst out. “Is it anyone we would know?”
Keri couldn’t meet any of our eyes when she shook her head, and I noticed her brush her blonde hair behind one ear. It was an obvious tell. Keri had always been a terrible liar. Considering the majority of our group was on this trip and we had all just denied having sleeping problems, I wondered who it was.
It would be the person who used the most DSD, the person who is in the Dream State the most often.
I started to think of those in our group who weren’t with us. Data, Frank, Tessa, and . . . “Siena . . .”
Keri’s eyes shot up and I knew I had been right.
“She’s been acting strange lately, more aggressive, trying harder and harder to prove herself.”
David brushed this off with a wave of his hand. “But she’s always been competitive.”
My jaw clenched and I was suddenly uneasy as my suspicions came together. “She’s been different lately. I should show you the stuff she said to me over the Dream State’s messenger. It was like she was taunting me, desperately trying to get a fix.”
I turned to Keri, and from her expression, she knew that I was aware of her lie. Catching my eyes, she slowly nodded.
“Tell us what’s going on with her,” I demanded. “I knew she was a bit rattled when seeing Kristie was a Screamer, but I had no idea it had affected her so badly.”
Keri bit her lip, as though caught between Siena and us. “Just don’t tell her I told you this. She’s been seeing a psychiatrist lately about a recurring dream she has whenever she falls asleep without DSD. The dream was one of her losing a soccer match and she thought that it came from her fear of losing in the Dream State. That’s why she challenged you. She thought she could get over it if she beat you.”
I gritted my teeth. “But that didn’t happen.”
And worse yet, I used the FPS to humiliate her.
Chloe grabbed Keri by her arm. “That’s not all she told you though, did she?”
Chloe wasn’t always very perceptive, but she had always been able to read Keri better than any of us.
Keri shook her head, eyes downcast in guilt. “She said that unless she can beat you in a rematch, her insomnia will only get worse.” She was breathing heavily now in her confession. “She asked me to tamper with your Dream Engine so that she could.”
“You should just lose,” Brock muttered and we all turned to him. “If she thinks beating you will help her get to sleep, lose to her. That’s the only way to see if her dream is caused by her fear of losing or if it’s something else.” His lips pulled inward. “I don’t think it will, but it’s the only way to rule it out. Then we can look for the real reason she’s not sleeping.”
“Which you blame on her overuse of DSD?” Chloe asked.
Brock nodded and turned his gaze back to the window.
Trust Brock to not trust the DSD.
I had been planning on losing to Siena before she set me off, but I’d let my emotions get the better of me again.
We arrived at the eastern cape of the island after several stops and hours of sitting on our butts watching the scenery go by. The place was a ramshackle town called Tutuala, and the bus driver explained to us how we would have to hike through the hills to get to the place where a boat would take us to Jaco Island.
When we asked if there was a place for tourists to stay, he told us about a guesthouse called Pousada Lautem where he said he would be willing to drop us off. We agreed, and the bus ride allowed us a good look at the little village, which was mostly filled with the young and the elderly.
Fifteen minutes later, we pulled up outside a humble set of small rooms at the base of a hill. Strangely, the buildings were pink.
A busboy in shorts and a red singlet came out and brought our bags into the main entrance. I was more thankful than ever that Brock had brought the phrasebook, because the young man didn’t seem to speak a lick of English. The receptionist at the guesthouse was another story.
“Hello, welcome,” the large Indonesian woman said as she came toward us from a back room. “How many?”
“Five,” I said.
“Five it is.” She called to the boy, “Levar malas para o quarto deles.”
She smiled at us after using such a brusque tone, and as the boy went to collect our gear again to bring it to our room, she gestured around to her desk and we made our way down a hallway to a back door. Trees surrounded most of the rooms, and we crossed a patch of grass leading to a few of the connecting huts.
“How will these do?” she asked as she opened a door and gestured us inside.
Like the guesthouse itself, the rooms were homely, but not as small as I had suspected. I nodded. “These will do fine.”
“I’m glad.”
I followed her back across the grass toward the main house and started my questions. “We would like to know how to get a boat to Jaco Island.”
She looked at me, her expression changing. “Now why would you want to go to such a place as Jaco?”
“We would like to explore the area. Are there any chances we would be able to take a boat there sometime tomorrow?”
“I’m sorry, Mr . . . ?”
“Hughes,” I lied.
“Mr. Hughes, please allow me to show you something.”
She led me down to the road to where our bus had vanished. Seeing it was gone made the sudden feeling like I was stranded here well up in me. However, that wasn’t what she brought to my attention. It was a large parking lot around the corner from the guesthouse. Parked in it were several large, black minivans.
“You’re not the only one interested in Jaco.”
This definitely threw a wrench in the works.
“Do you know who they are?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Work for some big company. Sonics Australia, but they don’t have any signs. Only black vans and men in suits who walk around acting like they own the place.”
I nodded to the woman and frowned. I decided to try my luck and see how far my money got me. I brought out five one hundred dollar bills.
“For finding someone who can get us there,” I said, glad that American money also worked as currency here. “And twice that if you can find someone who can get us there in secret.”
The woman eyed the money and called, “Ricardo!”
The boy who had been carrying our bags ran to her. She spoke to him in Portuguese before he ran off again. She reached a hand out and I passed her the money.
“Someone will pick you up at four, early dawn. You will be taken to the beach where a man named Philippe will receive you and take you there by boat. He doesn’t speak very good English, so I will have Ricardo translate for you, but Ricardo doesn’t speak the best English either, so best have what you want to tell the skipper prepared well in advance.”
“Thank you.”
She smiled and shook her head. “Oh, you shouldn’t be thanking me. You’re more likely to get yourself killed than find what you are looking for.” Her voice was bitter as she continued, “You know . . . that island was one of the few sanctuaries left in the world before companies began to get interested in it because of its seclusion. Now there are more people trampling the local brush and killing the wildlife there than ever. Crying shame.”
I nodded. “I agree.”
“Hah. All they do is take. Think they own the place.” She held up the money I gave her and smiled. “This helps though.”
Having confided this with me, I felt like I could trust her. “They’re the reason we’re here. Oh, and one more thing.” I lifted Windsor’s suitcase, which hadn’t left my side since we departed Dili. “Would there be any chance I could put this in the guesthouse’s safekeeping during our stay here?”
The woman took the briefcase and nodded before leaving me to consider the black vehicles. That was Plan A arranged, and after Windsor told me how much the drones cost, I didn’t want to have to resort to Plan B until I absolutely needed to.