Awoken (The Lucidites Book 1) (8 page)

“Yeah, I think I was better at the second task,” Trent, the guy with dreadlocks, says. “I moved my peanut shell across the table before launching it into James’s ‘fro.” He chuckles a bit. “Honestly, I didn’t mean to, but that’s just how it goes sometimes.”

I let them all do the talking while I eat bread, cheese, and fruit. The group is nice enough, and no one makes any direct attempts to talk to me, which is a relief.

Everyone has finished their food when Trey steps onto a stage at the front. A light shines on him and he clears his throat. The room falls silent.

“I want to start by thanking each and every one of you.” He pushes his hand through his silver hair and stares at the back wall. “I know this hasn’t been easy for anyone. But what we’re facing is no easy challenge. Some of you have known you were Lucidites for a long time. Some of you are just learning this. No matter, we’re all part of the same team. We face a deadly force, and he will persist until he has squashed all the consciousness out of every Dream Traveler and Middling.” Trey halts, seeming to push his fury down. This is the exact same demeanor he had when he first told me about Zhuang. When Trey speaks again his words are slow, calculated, carrying weight. “Zhuang wants power and doesn’t care about the consequences. He has to be stopped.”

Since I plunged into this new world everything has felt brand new and exciting. It’s easy to get away from the purpose, the reason I’m here: to risk facing a merciless villain. A man who would crush his adversary to dust if they stood in his way. A man who sounds undefeatable. And in this room is the person who must challenge that man. They’re a sacrifice. This all seems so strange and artificial. But still I’m here, staring at this world like it’s my very own surreal
Alice in Wonderland
. I know better though. I don’t believe in fantasies. But at times I find myself wanting to believe in this.

Trey clears his throat and I awake from my little world. “We’re here because we must choose a contender. That’s our goal. This is what has been forecast and the day is almost upon us. By tomorrow we’ll know who will challenge Zhuang. I believe this person can bring him down. And I know by defeating Zhuang we’ll stand to live a better life.”

A waiter clearing a table in the back accidentally drops a dish, causing a momentary distraction. When the noise has settled Trey continues, “Flynn once again apologizes for being unable to attend. He knows the right challenger will be chosen and wishes to meet this person once they are.”

There are some “aws” and “ohs” made at this.

“The results from today’s tasks have been tallied. Your reports will be placed on your bunk tonight for your examination. Before then I want to review those tasks and go over what you can expect tonight.” A hush settles over the room. “The tasks weren’t given in a consistent order, since we had four different groups. We’ll start with the calisthenics task. This tested physical stamina because the right challenger will need to be physically as well as mentally prepared to battle Zhuang. It’s expected that he will challenge his opponent both in a dreamscape and a physical reality. The results on this task were quite low, but we did have a few of you who performed well.

“The kung fu task was chosen because this is the martial art form which we believe Zhuang to know best. If there’s to be a physical test then we believe it will take place in this form. There were some surprisingly strong candidates who displayed promising talents.

“The Ganzfeld task is about accessing information, which is an important quality for our contender. There were only two of you who received the message in its entirety.” The crowd is audibly upset. Trey quickly holds up his hand to quiet everyone. “Many of you got the essence of the message, but not the exact message.

“Lastly, the PK Party was to demonstrate a quite amazing talent that could be harnessed against Zhuang. Those who control objects with their mind are quite revered and would be a great adversary to our enemy. I’m proud to say that a few of you excelled at this task.”

Cheers echo around the room from a few different crowds. When everything dies down Trey continues, “Tonight is your final task. You’re to dream travel to a room within this Institute labeled with your first and last initials as well as the number on your room.”

That means I would travel to room RS 300.

“Once there, you’ll find instructions. Follow them. Please note there will be an hourglass timer in the room. When it’s done then your time to complete the task is over, Trey says. “The results of the tasks and your contender will be unveiled tomorrow in this room at eight a.m.”

A loud eruption of noise from the tables hurts my ears. Trey tries his best to settle everyone back down. “Please try to get to bed at a decent hour. This really is for the best.”

I excuse myself at once to go straight back to my room. A few pairs of eyes try to draw me in, but I hastily look away and continue my retreat. It isn’t that I’m aimed at performing well on the last task as much as I can’t shake an uneasy feeling in my stomach. It’s a feeling I get every time I look at Trey. He’s always holding something back, and it makes my insides twist uncomfortably.

When I return to my bunk, I find the card with my results from the day’s tasks. It’s in a dark brown envelope with a red seal. I open it at once and pull out the card. It reads:

Roya Stark:

Task 1: Ganzfeld – Pass – 100%

Task 2: PK Party – Fail – 0%

Task 3: Calisthenics – Fail – 45%

Task 4: Kung Fu – Pass – 88%

One hundred percent on the first task is absurd, but the next two are much more believable. With scores like these, I’ll be given accolades and then sent home to live out my summer in the quiet calm of Bob and Steve’s house.

Now all I need to do is finish the last task and then I’ll snuggle up in that chair on their deck, just as I dreamed. I pull the covers over my head, as I did the night before, and work at slowing down my breathing. When the time comes I see a sign in my head that says RS 300. I know this is where I must go.

Chapter Nine

T
he tunnel is short this time. Within seconds it spits me out into a poorly lit room. It isn’t really a room as much as a large closet. Junk is piled everywhere, on tables and shelves. Luckily a cramped walkway allows for navigation through the clutter.

What in the hell am I supposed to do in here?

The light overhead provides hardly any visibility. I squint through the darkness, and with relief find a floor lamp pushed in the corner. After one long pull on the brass chain, bright light fills the small space. I notice three things all at once: a chalkboard, a security camera, and an hourglass.

On the far wall hangs the chalkboard. It reads,
“Find object of most importance.”

The tiny room is literally filled to the brim with hundreds of objects—books, jewelry, clothes, electronics, and boxes. From the ceiling hang dried herbs. On a shelf sits a large plate of armor and a helmet. The floor is littered with shards of broken mirror and nutshells.
Was this a riddle or a joke?

The security camera hangs down a few inches from the ceiling in the far corner. Its red light flashes at me disapprovingly. I try to ignore the camera, pretending it doesn’t exist.

I steal a glance at the hourglass, which sits teetering high on a stack of books.
What!?
It’s almost empty. I gape at it in disbelief.
Oh no
,
I’ve lost before I even had a chance to try
. This isn’t the way I want to go down, especially with a camera blatantly recording my every move of failure. The sand filters through the narrow neck, piling up higher and higher.

Instantly struck by an idea, I press my eyelids together trying to clear my mind. It’s hard to block out the bright light from the lamp or the sound of my pulse racing in my head. Taking a deep breath, I focus on only one thing. Suddenly I’m in the tunnel again. The wind surges past me. All around me. I’m falling, like I did the night before. Luckily this only lasts for a brief moment before it deposits me back into the cramped closet. Immediately I pull the chain on the lamp, sending light to every inch of the room. The hourglass is full. Sixty minutes remaining, or five million granules of sand. I’d once read that this was the approximate amount in an hourglass. I had a thing for knowing and seeing useless stuff.

The camera hovers overhead, spying—making me doubt every move. I guess there are forty-nine other rooms just like this, with forty-nine contenders hunting around just like I am.
My gosh, how big is this place? How does the world not know about it?
Now the camera watches as I shake my head. Maybe the person watching me somewhere in the Institute thinks it’s because I’m baffled by the random contents of the box I’m exploring. Although true, I’m mostly baffled by the Lucidites and their Institute.

Inside the musty cardboard box are yellowing photographs of people I don’t recognize, a penny bank with change locked inside it, a broken smoke detector, and an old mink stole. I push this box to the side and scavenge through the next. All crap. There isn’t anything that sticks out as super important. This is like the contents of someone’s forgotten storage room. They’d never be back to sort through this junk or claim it, because in the end we really don’t need things. The belongings people accumulate throughout their lives will always own them. People seem to think if they had more they’d be happier or freer, but their possessions only chain them to the earth.

I open another box, taking a quick glance at the hour glass. Four million grains of sand remain. Forty-five minutes. Inside this box a rotary phone sits beside a doll, a pair of ballet slippers, and a trinket box. I pull off the lid of the velvet-wrapped trinket box, and with my fingertips push around the small objects inside. I gasp and the box hiccups between my fingers—its contents almost spill to the floor. Recovering myself, I probe at the tiny objects that startled me. Four pearl-and tan-colored teeth. Small ones. Baby teeth.
Still gross.
Mingled with some stranger’s teeth are a couple of lone earrings which have apparently lost their match, and a tiny little piece that looks like a hearing aid.

Slamming the lid back on the box I throw it sharply against the wall, sending it sliding back behind a mountain of boxes and books. A growl escapes my clenched teeth. The camera flashes its judgmental eye on me, greedy to record my frustration.

Snaking through the tiny path, I make my way to the oak shelf at the far end. A piece of medieval armor looks out of place beside some type of animal horn and a hand mirror. Up high on the top shelf stands a vase, another stack of books with faded covers, and something shiny, too high for me to reach. I pull a box down from a nearby stack and step onto it, grabbing the object that stole my attention. It’s a bracelet, a beautiful one. Two inches wide and made of alternating bands of silver and copper. It’s tapered at one end, where it sits closest to the wrist. The silver bands have raised circles. The copper is smooth, like water. I love it instantly.

A small pin releases the bracelet, and it opens in half on a pair of hinges. I stick it on my wrist and snap it shut.
Clink.
It’s cold and warm at the same time.

Like one of those plastic bracelets people adorn in a hospital, it makes me feel I’ve been admitted to a place. The coolness slowly starts to fade as my body heat presses against it. Maybe it’s my imagination, but the metal seems to soften as it connects with my skin. We’re one.

The bracelet isn’t the answer to this stupid riddle, though. I love it, but I can’t explain why it’s important. Scanning the room, I search desperately for something that catches my eye as incredibly useful.

I pick up the hand mirror on the bottom shelf and look into it. The handle is gold and ornately decorated with flowers and vines. Spots from age fleck the surface. Looking into the mirror I see myself for the first time in a long while. I’ve been so overwhelmed with everything that I can’t remember the last time I looked at my reflection. I’m older somehow, although for the most part nothing has changed about me. Maybe the green outline of my eyes is a little darker than I remember, but it could also be the lighting. A smile spreads softly along my pink mouth. This girl, the one looking back at me now, she’s a Dream Traveler. An odd expression lingers in her eyes as the label sinks in. The smile subsides, but the neutral appearance doesn’t disguise an emotion I’ve rarely witnessed on my own face. Pride.

Somewhere in the shadows behind me, something moves. I don’t see it directly, but instead in the reflection. I drop the mirror, sending it to the ground, and spin around ready to attack. Silence. I pace to the corner where I saw the movement and check every available space. There’s nothing and no place that someone could be hiding. I turn to check the opposite corner and feel the broken shards of mirror under my bare feet.

Two million granules of sand remain.

I bite my lip trying to think. My mind races over everything I’ve seen in the room. I kick a piece of mirror out of my path and feel the pain of a shard enter my toe.
Damn it
,
this isn’t the time to retrieve a broken piece of glass from my foot.

A minute ago, I thought I was beginning to figure myself out. Now I’m swearing and cutting myself. More than anything I want to know who I am. That’s why I’m here. I know I’m a Dream Traveler. Trey said I belong with the Lucidites. Honestly I don’t know where I belong. I don’t want to go back and live with my disingenuous parents and emotionally abusive brother. I want something different. A life that fits me. I deserve that. When I saw my reflection in that mirror, I felt there was a life out there that belonged to me.

The room spins in my mind 360 degrees. I have an idea. It feels right, like the way good poetry falls off my tongue. A wave of satisfaction sweeps over me. If I looked into the mirror right now, I’d see a smile.