Chapter Thirteen

The rest of the morning was spent looking through old journals, photo albums, and anything else that might help me, or at least take my mind off the dreams. I knew how those would end. I doubted that we would find the key to saving myself in my grandpa’s book shelves, but I could not stand to sit idle. In the end, though, the lure of the dreams Katie and I had shared became too strong to resist. My grandpa was reluctant to let me see it. Finally, after an endless amount of begging, he handed over Katie’s diary.

I read, captivated at seeing my own dreams dictated by another’s hand. The events were exactly the same, as were the feelings they stirred. Katie described the dreams in words different than I might have used, but the closeness I felt to my dead aunt overruled the years between us. Turning the pages hungrily, I was sorely let down when I reached the end of the diary. Katie had not finished recording the dreams. They stopped three days before she died with the happiest comment she had made in the week prior to her birthday. “Robert is coming home today. I can’t wait to see him.” And then it ended, the rest of the pages left empty. Disappointed, I went back to the beginning of the dreams, hoping for something that might help me.

***

May 28th, 1979

I don’t know if it’s just my anticipation for having Robert come home from college or what, but I woke up this morning crying because of this awful dream I had last night. I think it was a dream of me living in some kind of hut in the jungle. It was really weird. I was wearing this old time Spanish looking dress and sleeping on a pallet.

This older man, I guess he was supposed to be my dad, and I were asleep when a noise woke me up. Someone was pounding on the door of our tiny house. I didn’t know what was happening so I just pulled my blankets up and crouched against the wall. The old man rushed to the door and braced himself against it. Whoever was trying to get in, he knew they were going to hurt us.

I was freaking out, yelling at him to tell me what was going on. I kept asking him what was happening and what they wanted with us but he just told me to hide over and over again. He said they’d take me if I didn’t hide. I was so scared I couldn’t even move. I just kept huddling on my bed and crying.

When the door started to break, the old man screamed at me to hide again. He looked so terrified that I finally got the courage to jump off the bed. I ran for the only real piece of furniture in the little house. It was a big wooden cupboard that was just high enough off the ground to let me slip under it. I curled up on the floor, tucking in every part of me and tried to shut out the sounds around me. It didn’t work though. I could still hear the banging, the splintering wood, and the old man yelling for someone to help us.

Suddenly I heard the door break and the men outside ran in, demanding the old man give me to them. I had to cover my mouth to keep them from hearing me crying. The old man told them to get out of our house but they didn’t listen. They pushed past him and started ransacking the house. They knocked over chairs and tossed the bed I had been sleeping in as they searched for me. I could hear the old man’s voice as they searched, begging them to leave and threatening to kill them if they didn’t. He was an old man, though. They just laughed at him and pushed him out of their way.

He went back to begging then, telling them I was all he had left. They didn’t care. They kept saying I belonged to the gods, not him. I had no idea what they were talking about but they were acting so insane that I knew they were going to kill me.

I think one of them figured out where I was then because I saw someone’s feet running toward me. The old man tried to stop him but someone else hit him with something. I could hear the bone crack. I screamed when he fell down in front of me. Blood poured off his face, making me feel like I was going to puke. I had forgotten the men around me because of the blood, but they hadn’t forgotten me.

Hands grabbed me and yanked at me. I screamed as I tried to wriggle out of their grasp but I wasn't strong enough. It only took a few seconds before they pulled me out and grabbed my arms and legs. I begged them to let go of me.

Nobody listened to me.

They threw a bag over my head and pulled it down until I was completely covered. The dust from the bag made me cough so hard I couldn’t scream anymore. The last thing I remembered before waking up in my bed was blinding pain as someone hit me over the head.

I was so scared after I woke up that I couldn’t go back to sleep. I was a zombie all day today. I really hope I get a better night’s sleep tonight. Robert will be home soon and I don’t want to be a tire grouch for his visit. He loves to tease me about stuff like that.

Love,

Katie

***

After rereading only the first entry, I closed the book again. Remembering the fear was too much. Just as Katie had, when I woke up from the first dream, I had thought it was simply a nightmare, a vision of me living a different life entirely. Then the second dream came the next night where I saw what I again thought was myself being dragged away from the little town towards the towering city. Then came the washing and painting.

With every new dream I believed less and less that I was seeing myself in those nightmares. The feeling I got from them was no vague fear of the unknown, it was a pinpointed warning. And there was nothing new in Katie’s account. She saw exactly what I saw. I had gone over those dreams so many times trying to figure them out but it was no use. Leaving the book on the coffee table, I went to look for my grandpa. Maybe he had found something useful.

Sitting on the floor of his guest room, my grandpa was staring at photos of his daughter. He had a lot more than my mom did. Katie on one of the horses she loved so much. Katie building a sand castle at the beach. Katie graduating from elementary school. Katie posing with a group of friends. Her cheerful smile shining bright in every one of them. I wondered what she looked like during that last week. Did her smile fade just as her life was about to?

Suddenly my grandpa realized I was standing behind him and set the photos back down.

“Are you hungry?” I asked. “I could use a break.”

It didn’t take much to convince him to abandon the books and go have a sandwich with me in the kitchen. I knew it was difficult for him to be dragging all of this back up. No doubt he had search through everything in his house to find some way to end this, but he wanted to search it all again. I wanted to believe I would find something in the books, but what could Katie have known that I didn’t? In the end the headache caused by hours of reading the looping handwriting convinced us both to stop.

The meal was simple, turkey and cheese on wheat bread, but I savored it. Beginning to feel like every move I made might be my last, I pushed myself to enjoy every second to the fullest. My grandpa on the other hand ate his sandwich as if he barely even tasted it. The silent kitchen was abruptly disturbed by a hesitant knock. My grandpa came back to the present and looked around the room. He glanced out the kitchen window, looking into the street. A late model Chevy pickup was parked at the curb.

“I wonder who that could be,” he said.

“Oh, shoot,” I exclaimed, “I totally forgot he was coming.”

“A friend of yours?”

“Yeah. I kind of forgot we made plans for today,” I admitted. Standing up, I brushed the crumbs from my sandwich off my pant legs. Hurriedly, I scooped the pictures and papers I had brought with me off the table and into my backpack. Shouldering the bag, I turned back to my grandpa and hesitated.

“Do you want me to tell him you’re not here?” he asked, looking a little unsure about what he was proposing.

“No, Grandpa, it’s fine. But would you call my mom and let her know where I’m going?”

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Um.” I hesitated. “Archery lessons. But please don’t mention that part to her. She’ll have a fit.” I moved toward the front door.

“Arra,” he said disapprovingly.

“Grandpa, I’ll be perfectly safe, don’t worry. Just tell Mom I’m with Tanner Wheeler, okay?”

“Alright, but if she finds out, I’ll say I didn’t know a thing,” he said, giving in with a smile and a brief shake of his head.

The knock came again, a little louder. My grandpa finally opened the door. “Good afternoon, Tanner. How’s your mother doing?”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Malo. She’s just fine, sir. Uh, is Arra here?” Tanner asked awkwardly.

This was a new side of Tanner I had not seen before. So full of confidence the last two times I had seen him, I watched him fiddle with a stray string on his jeans pocket. I wanted to laugh at the thought of my sweet old grandpa making anybody nervous. He was much more like to force cookies on someone than do anything even close to intimidating. My mood lifted slightly, just enough to make me glad I had not ditched out on the date.

“Why yes she is, young man. Come on in,” my grandpa said. The kind smile he gave Tanner gave no hint that he thought the young man’s behavior was at all funny. He pulled the door open a little wider.

Straightening my clothes, I swatted at few straggling bread crumbs before stepping around the corner. “Hey, Tanner. Thanks for picking me up.”

“Sure,” he replied. His eyes drifted towards my grandfather. He didn’t seem to know whether he was required to stay for a few minutes to be polite, or whether he could leave without embarrassing himself.

I considered prolonging his uncertainty, but could not bring myself to do it. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” he said, his expression changing to one of relief. “It was nice to see you again, Mr. Malo.”

“You too, Tanner. Tell your mom hello for me.”

“Don’t forget to call my mom,” I reminded him.

“Just be careful, or we’ll both be in trouble with her,” my grandpa said seriously.

I nodded my agreement and headed for Tanner’s truck.