The Dream Catcher's Daughter (13 page)

Then a voice filtered into his ears: “Check
your pocket.”

Jason did, and flinched as his fingers
brushed against paper. The conductor raised an eyebrow at this. “A little
jumpy, are we?” He reached into his own pocket and pulled out a watch. “Do you
mind scramming? I have a very tight schedule. People aren’t happy when their
dreams don’t get where they’re going on time.”

Jason ignored the conductor, pulling out
whatever was hiding in his pocket. He looked at them, and his eyes narrowed.
Len and Darlene peered over Jason’s shoulders. The conductor whistled. “Don’t
see those much,” he said.

In Jason’s hands were two silver tickets.
Imprinted on them was a message:
GOOD FOR ONE, TWO-DAY,
ROUND
-TRIP
TO VISONIA. NON-REFUNDABLE.
Jason flipped the tickets over, and found an
imprint of Bootelia on one ticket, Amor on the other. He smiled, and looked up
at the conductor.

“Here are my tickets.”

The conductor smirked, then pointed a
dry-skinned finger toward Len and Darlene. “Well, you might have two tickets,
but unless you don’t plan on going, one of these lovely ladies will have to
stay behind.”

Jason’s smile disappeared. To get so
excited—how could he abandon either Len or Darlene? He couldn’t let them go
without him, either. He had to be there to absorb the dreams.

“Wait, Len, can’t you go and put the dreams
in your flute? Then I can absorb them when you come back...”

Len shook her head. “This flute hasn’t
been blessed by my mistress.”

Jason heaved a sigh. He thought for a
moment, hoping to find something, anything to help get all three of them on the
train. But he couldn’t think of anything. He came to a decision, and turned to
Darlene, who was on her phone.

“Listen, Darlene...”

“Hold on,” she said.

“Well, it’s just that...”

“I said wait, Jason.”

She clicked something, and smiled. Then
she held out her hand. “
Gimme
one of those tickets. I
need a picture of it.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Come on, try to be
serious here. I think it’d be best if—”

Darlene snatched one of the tickets out
his hand. “You talk too much.” She held the ticket up to her phone’s camera,
then snapped a picture. Jason took the ticket back.

“There, happy? Now, Darlene...”

Then Darlene’s phone glowed. The light
began around the phone’s edges, then channeled into the middle. Darlene laid
the phone flat in the center of her palm. The light bubbled, forming a little
dome on the cell phone’s screen, and from the bubble a glowing square arose to
float mid-air above the phone. The square’s glow faded, and a ticket appeared.
Darlene grabbed the ticket, and flashed it at the conductor.

“Will this get me on?”

The conductor took the silver ticket and
inspected it with a careful eye. He grunted. “Well, despite witnessing the
fraudulence firsthand, I can’t detect any serious flaws. Even bends the same
way a real silver ticket does. Welcome aboard, Miss!”

Darlene smiled, and walked toward the
stairs. Jason’s lower jaw dropped to his knees. Len grinned. “C’mon, slow
pokes!” said Darlene. “We don’t have all day!” Jason and Len turned in their
tickets, and the conductor welcomed them aboard.

“Next stop, Visonia! Kingdom of Dreams!”

As the train pulled away from the
platform, no one seemed to remember that the Guardian, hidden under all his
shadows, had programmed the spell Darlene used to duplicate Jason’s ticket, and
had instructed her to use it thus.

The conductor ushered them into a long,
wide box car that, if repaired, would’ve looked like a five-star restaurant on
wheels, complete with plush booths and marble tabletops. The flowery,
cream-colored wallpaper would’ve added a nice finishing touch to the car, like
how the right bow makes a present all the more desirable on Christmas Day. Now,
the car looked more like a present that had been mauled by a wild pack of
wolverines: the booths’ upholstery in shreds, stuffing blossoming out of the
cuts like fluffy gore; the tables upturned and used as barricades; the
wallpaper black and peeling.

Gunshots echoed in the distance, even
though the people shooting the guns were mere feet away from them. Len’s eyes
widened. Darlene wrapped her arm around Len’s waist, whispering comfort as a
mist of dust rose from a grenade detonation. Most of the people here looked to
be around Jason’s age. Strangely, instead of war duds, these kids wore t-shirts
and jeans, a dozen with gaming headsets on and controllers in their hands.

“Sorry,” said the conductor. “Didn’t mean
this to be your first room.”

“Room?” said Jason.

“These are dreams,” said Len. “At least,
that’s what I’m gathering. Most of these kids probably play a lot of shooting
games.”

The conductor motioned toward the disaster
zone in front of them. “Believe it or not, this is one of our most popular
cars. It’s a little chaotic for my taste, but, hey, different strokes for
different folks.” He motioned them forward as he stepped into the fray. “Don’t
worry. To them, we’re not here. Even if they were able to see us, they couldn’t
touch us. That’s just the nature of this car...one big game.”

Len grunted. “Don’t see how war is a
game.”

They made it to the end of the car when a bomb
exploded and everyone, except the conductor, jumped. The conductor only smiled
at the others from over his shoulder. They pushed on through into the next car.
Everyone except Jason seemed to enjoy the Sex Car—a narrow hall draped in red,
the only light came from candles that hung like bats from the ceiling. Beds
hugged the walls; nearly all of them were occupied. Darlene’s cheeks flushed
red as she spotted a young lesbian couple sprawled out not even four feet away
from them. Len stole a few glances at Darlene’s rump.

Jason marched forward while the others
remained behind. The conductor called out to him: “Hey, what’s the hurry?
There’s lots of things to see here. You can even join in.”

“But…they won’t see us, will they?” said
Darlene.

“That was the last room. Each room is
different. Unique in its rules. Such is the nature of dreams.”

Jason ignored them: Just a few more feet
to the door. His eyes flickered to the right, where a young brunette, fully
clothed, sat alone by a window. Seeing she was the only clothed person in this
car, Jason sat across from her while he waited for his friends. Her hair was a
shade of dark chocolate and wavy. Her eyes were hidden by a black bandanna. She
shifted in her seat.

“Can I help you?” she said.

“Not really,” he said. “Unless you can
hurry my friends out of this car.”

“Yeah, good luck with that. Some prefer
this to Visonia.”

He glanced toward the wriggling masses of
bodies behind the blindfolded girl, and pursed his lips. “Sounds like you’ve
been here before.”

“I’ve been around.”

Jason tilted his head, glancing at his
friends. The conductor seemed to be explaining something to Darlene and Len.
Their faces grew redder and redder with each passing sentence.

“Can you see with that on?” said Jason,
pointing to her blindfold.

“Don’t point. It’s rude.”

Jason lowered his hand, and laughed.
Something he hadn’t done in such a long time. They continued talking. The
girl’s name was E. Simply E. Visonia was her home; she lived and slept and ate
there. Jason straightened in his seat, but E said he shouldn’t be alarmed. She
was flesh and blood, like him. Just a denizen of another dimension. Then
E
sat there, facing toward Jason. He couldn’t tell for
sure, but he thought she might be staring at him.

“You look…familiar,” she said. “Have we
met before?”

“Not that I know of,” said Jason.

Not long after, the conductor led Darlene
and Len to the front of the car. Upon seeing E, the conductor gave a slight
bow, his mop of brown hair flopping over his brow.

“Pardon me, Madam E, but I didn’t know you
cared for these seats.”

Her face tilted toward Jason, as though
she were glancing at him. “I was about to retire. How long until we reach
Visonia?”

“Three hours at most.”

E
nodded, then
stood and moved toward the door. Before exiting, E turned back to Jason and
smiled. “Forth, young stranger!” And she disappeared.

Jason stared after her, and just then
realized his heart was pounding in his throat.
Looked familiar…She said I
looked familiar. She looked familiar, too.

The conductor cleared his throat. “We’re
almost to your car. I suggest we get a move on. It’s almost time for dinner.”

***

They passed through a car shaped like the
inside of a medieval castle. Another like the control room of a
Star Trek
spacecraft. They’d narrowly avoided a half-naked jungle man in the jungle car
before piling through another door. In between cars, they stopped for breath.
All except the conductor were panting.

“Next car, I swear,” he said.

Jason would break the conductor’s nose if he
were wrong. Thankfully, he wasn’t.

The dining car seemed almost impossible:
Most of the cars up to this point had seemed more than impossible, but this car
contained an entire dinner hall, with dozens of tables dressed in white
tablecloths, set with silverware and crystal goblets. Flames danced atop
trident-shaped candlesticks. The carpet beneath them felt like lush grass
between their toes, even though they had shoes on. The aromas of roasted meat
and honey cakes made Jason’s mouth water. The conductor looked at their
tickets, then surveyed the tables.

“Ah, Table
Five
,
right over there.”

He led them through the cluster of tables.
All the scents made Jason’s stomach whine—he hadn’t eaten much in the past day.
By the longing looks on Darlene and Len’s faces, neither had they. Luckily for
them, the food was included with their tickets. They sat down at Table Five and
the goblets filled with their favorite drinks: Jason’s with root beer;
Darlene’s with Dr. Pepper. Len’s glass filled with a bright blue fizzy liquid
that Jason didn’t recognize. Darlene took a whiff of the drink, and perched her
brow.

“Is this an energy drink?”

“Yeah,” said Len. “It’s the only way I can
stay awake all the time.”

“All the time? No wonder your hair is
gray. Not that it matters: Your hair’s pretty no matter the color.”

Suddenly, Len seemed to find the table
very interesting, craning her neck until she was nearly kissing the white
tablecloth. Darlene and Jason’s eyes met, and he winked.

A dinner bell rang, and out of nowhere a
gaggle of waiters and waitresses appeared, bearing armfuls of menus. They had
neon hair that streaked behind them like comet-tails as they soared above the
diners’ heads with winged boots. One waitress stopped at Jason’s table, her red
hair floating about her like goo inside a lava lamp. She smiled at them, and
Jason thought her face looked funny. Like the way the alley had looked funny
just before they entered the portal.

“Welcome,” she said. “I’m Narissa, your
waitress. I invite you to browse our menu. Please, take your time. There is no
rush.”

She set the menus upon her hair and the
undulating current of neon red carried each menu to Len, Darlene, and Jason
respectively. Then Narissa
cometed
away to serve
another table.

Jason opened his menu, scanning through the
thick anthology of the best food he had eaten in his short life. All of his
favorites were there—pizza, sushi, barbecue, fried chicken. As Jason ventured
deeper and deeper into the menu, he became distraught: What should he eat? He
had to pick wisely, especially when he could have any of his favorites for
free. Jason was about to ask Darlene her opinion when he landed on a particular
page, labeled “House Special.” Underneath this the caption read: “
Ra’at
—what you’ve always hungered for.” He’d never had
Ra’at
or could even try to guess what it was, but the boy’s
curiosity overpowered his familiar tastes.

“Excellent!” Narissa said after she’d
returned. “We’ll get that out to you ASAP.” Then she took Len and Darlene’s
orders before shooting away again.

For a few moments, the three of them
talked casually. They noted how unusual the train was, how nice and exotic the
servers were. They were excited for their meals, Jason especially so. He
wondered what the
Ra’at
would taste like, how it
would feel on his tongue. Would it be warm? Would it be soup? Maybe an ice
cream that tasted like soup? Or vice versa? After Jason depleted his stock of
questions, Len turned to him.

“I don’t think I know a lot about your
parents,” she said. “I’ve met your father. He seems nice.”

“He is. Can be. But he was a lot better
when Mom was still around. So I’ve heard.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“She died when
J.Kinney
was young,” said Darlene. “We think
it’s
part of the
reason his dad is acting weird.”

“Weird?”

Jason looked around, making sure no one
was close enough to hear, though he wasn’t exactly sure why. He leaned forward.
“I was certain my dad would never want my memory erased. Rules aside, I
am
his only son. He told me the day I was born was his happiest.” Jason looked
down at the table. His ghost of a smile vanished. “But now he doesn’t seem to
care either way. He works all the time, and I have no fucking clue what goes
through his head.”

Silence between them. Then Len cleared her
throat. “Sorry, but at least you can remember your parents saying that. Suck it
up, Princess.”

Darlene snorted, then broke into a
full-bellied laugh. Jason joined in, and Len did, too. When the laughter faded,
Len smiled.

“I
will
have the Guardian’s head.”

At first, Darlene smiled too, thinking Len
must be telling another joke. But Jason knew better, and he almost wanted to
tell Len to shut up. He didn’t, of course. And Len sat back in her chair,
closing her eyes.

“I will prove the Guardian killed my
parents,” said Len.

Darlene sat up straight. “How do you know
he killed them? I mean, could’ve been something like Jason’s mom...car
accident.”

“I wish.” She opened her eyes and leveled
them with Jason’s. “You believe me, don’t you?”

“Well, I would. But in a couple of days, I
won’t even remember who you are. I don’t think it’d be very helpful to have an
amnesiac as one of your witnesses in magic court.”

Len smiled wolfishly. “No, I suppose not.”
Then her eyes flickered to Darlene, who was staring off into space. Jason could
tell she didn’t want to look Len in the eye. Jason hadn’t known until the
Guardian said it, but Jason should’ve been able to spot the telltale sign that
Darlene was the Guardian’s descendent—green eyes, just like her grandfather.

“What about you, Darlene?” Len rested her
elbows on the table. “Either of your parents dead?”

By the casual look in her eye, Jason
thought that, right now, Len had no idea who Darlene was related to. It would
come up eventually, but better to let Darlene handle it.

“My parents are both alive and well. Mama
teaches at the high school for magi. Papa is an ambassador for the Council.”

“Ambassador? He must travel a lot.”

“He does. But he loves it. It’s what his
father always wanted for him—to travel and learn about all the different kinds
of magic. Father always has a new spell or two to show me after he comes home.”

Len was about to say something else, but
Narissa appeared holding a large tray high above her head. Jason thought the
tray should’ve touched the ceiling, but the ceiling seemed to grow taller and
taller each time Jason looked at it. Narissa unloaded their meals onto her
flowing locks of hair.

“I apologize for the wait. The
Ra’at
especially took a time to prepare.” Jason looked up
and saw Narissa grinning at him, her cheeks the same shade of red as her hair.
“I do hope you find everything to your liking. Please, enjoy.” And after each
of the meals were deposited onto the table, Narissa left again.

There, before Jason, sat a giant box
covered in pink wrapping paper. It appeared as though he could fit inside the
box. He peaked around the box to spy on Len and Darlene. Their meals were
normal, served on plates. They eyed his box with wonder. Jason examined the box
closely, hoping to find an ear of cardboard he could pull on. Then he noticed something
hanging from the top. He reached up and pulled down a small card folded in
half.