The Dreamstalker (15 page)

“But—but, that's not possible. I can't let him go, I won't let him go with you. He belongs to me, Jesse. He's my brother. That just isn't possible. I'm sorry.”

She skates away quickly, looks for Kerr and grabs his hands again. Twice they spin in a circle, then race away across the glistening lake
.

Spinning so fast that her problems drop away, along with the idea of Alysia and Jesse wanting Kerr to come with them, waiting for him, she tosses back her head and laughs. Her voice echoes through the little trees, and comes back to her as frost crystals shattering in icy showers of mist
.

He is happy because she is happy. He knows her moods and reflects them back as a mirror reflects the sun rays of daybreak. She feels the power of two souls filling her, but leaving him empty and alone. She sucks in his life breath, warming the silver smoke as it travels from him to her, through the icy air
.

On the third circle, marked each time by passing their friends, she looks up at him. He is growing fainter, like a shadow skater, like fog dancing along the top of the frozen lake
.

When her hands are empty, she stares at them, unbelieving. She opens and closes her fists, as if marveling at the void she finds there
.

From all across the lake, people stop, turn to snow sculptures. Only their eyes remain alive, staring like glassy, hollow pebbles, stained by the colors of winter woods
.

She turns, looks in the direction that holds their interest
.

The ice cracks, sending brittle music across the rink, replacing the skater's waltz. Slowly, slowly
,
slowly he slides, slipping into the shadow hole as the fissure opens, revealing the dark water beneath
.

An icy dagger pierces her chest. One silver blade catches the edge of a jagged tear in the lake, and she stumbles. She is strong enough to keep her balance, jump and glide toward him
.

She must help him. He reaches out one hand, long, gray fingers bony like a frozen limb
.

Sprawling on the ice, she stretches out her hand to him. It is so far. He has moved so far away. Almost out of her reach, almost too far to return to her. She must grasp his hand and pull. She is strong, much stronger than he. She is strong enough to pull him back. Cold penetrates her clothing as she lies spread-eagled on the hard, icy skin. She ignores it
.

She reaches, stretches, reaches, reaches
.

Sitting up, she screamed. “No, no, no! Kerr, no! Come back to me. Come back. I can reach you, I know I can. I'm strong. I can save you. I have to save you. Help me. You aren't trying—reach for my hand. Come back to me. Please Kerr, come back to me.”

Chapter 18

When Karen realized she was screaming, she stopped. She was cold, so cold. Grabbing a sweater, she pulled it on and raced downstairs.

In the kitchen, Kerr stood making a cup of hot chocolate.

“Kerr, what are you doing here? You're all right? Are you all right?”

“Sure. Why shouldn't I be? And I live here, remember? That's what I'm doing here. I'm your brother.” He reached out and pretended to feel her forehead. “You should have gone skating with me, except that it was icy cold. The wind is blowing, so the wind-chill factor must be nearly zero. Full moon tonight, though. Maybe we can wrap up and go back over there later. Want some chocolate?”

Karen collapsed at the breakfast table. “Yes, please.”

It had been a dream. Just a dream, not something that really was happening. It was so like the other dreams, though, and seemed so real. There was the same nightmarish quality about it. She shivered. She was truly losing her mind.

Kerr set his cup of steaming cocoa in front of her, going to make himself another. Immediately, she circled the cup with both hands, using it to warm her body. Her mind was still frozen in the lake, and she was having trouble bringing it back.

“It was the coldest I've ever known it to be at the lake. Maybe it was because you weren't with me, Karen. I'm never cold when we're together. I missed you. I tried to imagine you were with me, but it didn't work very well.”

His eyes searched hers, and he smiled. “Let's both go to CU next year. I don't want to go to a different college from you. We could get a two-bedroom apartment. It probably wouldn't cost much more than living in the dorm. I don't want to live in a dorm, anyway. Dad can afford it. No matter what he says, he knows he plans to send us to college.”

This wasn't a good time to talk about their future. She wasn't in the mood to talk about college. She and Jesse had talked about college, but Jesse was gone. He wasn't going with her. But was there ever going to be a good time to talk with Kerr? And would he listen if she spoke her mind?

Would he answer any questions if she asked him outright? You know the answers, Karen. You know what's been happening. Now that you know, Jesse had said. You know.

She took a deep breath. “Kerr, we aren't going to the same school. I've already told you that. I don't think it's a good idea. This will be our chance get out on our own. Be independent. You live your own life, I'll live mine.”

“I don't have a life without you, Karen.” He was serious. She didn't want to believe he was serious.

“Don't be silly, Kerr. I know I've let you depend on me a lot. I think that was wrong of me. I've been a bossy big sister. I've done things for you, made decisions for us both, not even asking you what you wanted. We're going to change that.” She smiled, trying to tease him.

“You're inside me, Karen, and I'm inside you. I always thought that. I know it now. I've proved it.”

“What do you mean, you've proved it?”

“I've taken you with me. You didn't know it, but I have.”

Where have we gone? What have we done? You know, Karen, you know where you've gone, what you've done. You know what Kerr has done. Accept it. You must accept it.

“Kerr, you're not making sense. Are you listening to what I'm saying about college?”

“Yes, I heard you. You don't want me tagging along.”

“That's not what I said, and you know it. You're twisting my words. I want us to be individuals.”

“That's not possible.”

He wasn't going to discuss this sensibly. What could she do? Apply to several schools, choose one, enter it, and keep it secret? She sipped the hot sweet drink and started to thaw just a little. The dream had frightened her, truly frightened her. But it showed her even more that she needed to put some distance between her and Kerr. It
was
a dream, making her imagination run away with her. She didn't know anything. She just knew she couldn't depend on Kerr, be so attached to him.

If she wasn't careful, losing Jesse and Alysia could make her hold on tighter to Kerr. He was the only person left in the world that she felt close to. She wasn't close to her mother or father. They didn't have any relatives that lived near, that they spent time with. Her father was an only child. Her mother had a sister, but Karen hardly knew her. The dream she'd had, the real dream was symbolic. It meant she had to let go of Kerr, stop hanging onto him. She had to let him go on his own.

“You don't really want to spend time apart from me, do you, Karen? This is just something you think you
should
do, not something you want to do. Maybe that teacher told you it would be a good idea. How could he know what was good for us?”

Karen realized Kerr meant Dr. McArthur. She frowned. “Dr. McArthur didn't tell me I needed to go my own way. That's my idea, Kerr, and if you'll think about it sensibly, you'll agree that I'm right. Just the fact that we have to have this discussion says I'm right.
You
should want to be independent by now, Kerr.”

“I'll think about it.” Kerr stared out the window. It was almost dark. The bushes by the window were full of juncos chirping. “The birds are cold.”

“I wonder if Mom fed them today.” Karen knew the one time a day her mother did go outside was to feed the birds. She kept the big feeder full all the time, and the birds knew they could depend on it. Automatically, numbly, she got up and went in the living room. Her mother was watching the early news.

“Mom, did you feed the birds today? It's going to get below zero tonight.”

“That's what the weather man says. I did go out early today. Maybe you'd better take out more. Those pesky squirrels eat so much.”

Taking an old parka from the hall closet, Karen put it on and went into the garage. In the back her mother kept a trash can full of bird seed, sunflower seeds, and cracked corn. She dipped into it with a plastic pitcher, which scraped the bottom. The can was almost empty. She would fill it for her mother. The sacks of feed weighed twenty-five pounds. Lifting the nearly full bag, she started to pour it into the trash can. The can wasn't empty. It was low, but not empty. Karen set the bag on the floor and reached into the trash can, letting the tiny grains of millet slide, like sand, through her fingers as she pulled out the object the pitcher had uncovered. It was a small can of paint. Yellow paint. She glanced back into the deep recess. Another lid peeked up at her in the dim light. Another small can. Red paint. From the lip of each can a dollop of color had dripped down the side like a giant tear drop. She scratched at the red tear. The latex skin was soft and pliable, and she peeled it upwards, like slipping the skin off a ripe peach.

Carefully she balled up the skin of paint in her fingers and tossed it back into the bird seed. She placed each paint can back into the millet and secured both upright. She lifted the heavy bag at her feet and poured from the diagonal cut at the corner. The seed hissed out into the trash can, sending a cloud of grain dust into the air. Neatly, she placed the nearly empty bag on a shelf, covered the can with its lid, and slipped out the side door into the back yard. She shivered. Kerr was right, it was super cold, but at least the wind had died down. She filled the feeder, tossed the remainder of the grain on the ground and hurried back inside, setting the pitcher on the counter.

There was a chicken in the crock pot. Karen, Kerr and their mother sat down to eat at TV trays, watching the six o'clock news. Dad had called to say he'd be late. Karen paid little attention to what was hapening around the world. It was all she could do to handle what was going on in her small piece of the world.

When they'd finished eating, Kerr volunteered to wash dishes.

“I'll help you.” Karen took her tray into the kitchen. Kerr went back for his mother's while she scraped plates and rinsed them. The dishwasher was partly filled, and this would make a load. Water had boiled while they cleaned up. Kerr made his mother a cup of coffee and took it to her.

“Want to play a couple of games of backgammon?” Karen asked. “Then I have a book to start reading for speech class.”

Kerr looked at her, surprised. He grinned. “Sure. I'll get the board. Make us a pot of tea.”

Karen did more than that. She also scooped out a dish of raspberry sorbet for each of them. Licking the serving spoon, she opened the washer and stuck it in.

They played in the breakfast nook, a warm, cozy corner of the house at night. Kerr always had to play with the black markers, and he took an early lead.

“Kerr, did you know that Gordon Anderson left his window open at night?” She needed to ask him that, she needed to know.

“Sure. Everyone knew that.”

“I didn't. Until you told me. You
did
tell me that, didn't you?”

“I don't know. I think it was in the paper when he died.”

“It wasn't, Kerr. I thought it was, but it wasn't.”

He shrugged and moved his double sixes. “Anderson was a coward. A bully and a coward.”

“That doesn't mean it was alright that he died.” She rolled her dice, getting a one and a two. “Why can't I ever beat you!” She took out her fear and frustration on the game.

“Because you know you can't. Your mind controls a lot of what you can do. If you're afraid of something, you bring it to you. You're afraid I really will leave you, aren't you, Karen? You're afraid I will go off on my own. That's why you had that last bad dream. You're bringing your fears to you. Don't you believe that?”

“No, I don't believe it. I can't believe it.”

“McArthur told us about that dream he kept having, remember?” Kerr rolled double sixes again.

Karen shook her head. “What dream? Going downhill backward in a car, out of control?”

“Yeah, that's the one. He went off the hill backward the other night. Just like he feared.”

“How do you know that, Kerr?” Karen held her dice until he answered.

“It was in the paper. Didn't you read the report?”

“No, I didn't want to.” She moved automatically for the rest of the game. Was it in the paper? Had he read it there? Or did he know because—because he saw the accident?

Alysia was afraid of sharks, and in Karen's dream that was what killed her. But she hadn't brought the sharks to her. She'd never do that. Jesse—was Jesse afraid of getting hurt playing football? She didn't think so, unless it was a secret fear he had. He was afraid of not getting his football scholarships, she knew that.

“Want to play another?” Kerr put down his score.

“Huh?” Karen hadn't realized the game was over. She had lost, of course. By seven points. “I think I'd better go get to work. This is due Friday. I've put it off.”

Upstairs, she tried to read, but she couldn't concentrate on the book she'd brought home, something about nuclear winter. She should have chosen better. She could have found something funny or at least entertaining.

But all sorts of possibilities were nagging her. She picked up the phone and dialed Captain Martin's home number. He answered the phone.