Chapter Thirty-Five

Dream Walker

Cleve’s third and fourth victims had done no harm unto others. Alexandria was born with respiratory muscle weakness and required chronic ventilator support. James resided in the young-adult section of Grace. An aneurysm burst in his brain one year prior, leaving him cognitively challenged.

Neither caused Cleve more than a moment’s regret. The importance of his work was beyond description. His was a task rooted in the very foundation of morality. He was closer than ever to becoming God’s sword, his judge and executioner. The children had lived such small lives. They would never do anything monumental. They were loved, perhaps, but so were mediocre people. He was honoring them, in a way, by involving them in something so weighty.

It was the fifth child who caused Cleveland concern. Isaac Abramson was a thirteen-year-old victim of school bullying. His best friend was an African-American girl named Lucinda. Apparently that didn’t sit well with some of the high-schoolers. A group of white kids from Preble beat the shit out of him and stuffed his mouth with stones. He choked nearly to death and suffered permanent brain damage.

Cleve took hold of the boy’s hand, just as he had done with the other children. The new moon shone weakly through Isaac’s window. The Miskenupik was held between clasped hands.

Cleve reached inside the boy’s mind and found…nothing. He simply—wasn’t—there. Impossible. Cleve reached deeper, probed, searched. Isaac was gone.

A dream walker. The answer came after a moment’s reflection. Isaac’s soul could not be found because it had wandered into the dream world. The Menominee believed very few attained such skills and then only with decades of practice under a shamen’s guidance. Yet thirteen – year-old Isaac had found a way to do it.

The moon rose higher into the autumn sky. Cleve reluctantly set the mystery aside for another time. The night was growing old, and there were easier pickings. Low – hanging fruit. Four apples on the ground, five yet to pluck. The thought brought a smile to Umbra’s face.

The Angel of Tyranny was not as patient as Cleveland. The fifth new moon hung high in the sky. Its disciple would be successful tonight but only four moons remained before the cycle would close. It could not take any chances. It sent out feelers into the dream world, seeking out the child. Tributaries from the True Path fed Isaac’s dream. The angel would send forth Binders to hunt him for sport. They would choke off Isaac’s connections to the True Path. His world would wither and eventually die, forcing him to seek refuge in the only place left. The bay. Isaac’s sacrifice would yet be made.