Two
Lara Liu-Warner sat in her computer class at Leaside High School, staring absently out the window at the sky, with her head resting against her hand. The small city of Dalhousie where she lived was nothing like the metropolitan capital Indianapolis.
Dalhousie was built around old trading trails that weaved throughout the area. These trails became the major roads, which were laid out in a pattern that resembled the spokes of a bicycle wheel. Because the town was not built on a grid, visitors found navigating to be frustrating. The concept of travelling in cardinal directions was essentially useless.
The circumference of the town was primarily farmland, but it had been heavily developed within the past decade and a half, with a good chunk of the land previously owned by the Rathbone family, who had been residents of Dalhousie since its founding in 1849. Ted Rathbone had insisted that his construction company be the first to be subcontracted and used, and refused to sell until his terms were met. When the developer reluctantly agreed, the already wealthy Rathbone family grew substantially richer.
The middle of the town was more residential, with the exceptions of Dalhousie General Hospital and the new Glenridge Mall. New mansions and a gated community had recently been built.
With the new construction came boutiques, cafés, and restaurants in the town center. In fact, Lara’s mother, Linda Warner, had used money from a grant for economic development from the state, as well as a sizeable chunk of the money left from her late husband’s life insurance policy, to follow through on her dream of owning her own business. After several years’ worth of research and planning, Linda finally opened Linda’s Lingerie.
“It is something of an odd dream, to have your own lingerie store,” she admitted to a local news reporter. “But it just goes to show you what a widowed, single mother is capable of with a lot of hard work and tenacity!”
The reporter, Sue Evans, nodded appreciably. “Good for you, Linda,” she said.
“Sue, don’t forget to put our tagline down: ‘We have it ALL, from A to LL!’” Linda exclaimed while parting her hands in front of her, imagining a billboard.
Sue snickered. “I don’t know if the men will get it, though.”
Linda waved her hand dismissively. “As long as the women do, that’s all I care about,” she replied with a wide grin.
The first several years were rough for Linda and Lara. Linda couldn’t always afford to pay an employee, making a fifty-five- to sixty-hour work week a regular occurrence. It wasn’t unusual for Linda to pick Lara up from elementary school and take her directly to the shop, where she would stay for another four hours. Lara didn’t mind it, though. It gave her time to finish her homework, as well as spend time with her mother.
As Lara grew up, she was able to take a more active role in the business. She learned how to draft monthly income, balance, and cash flow statements and perform inventories, and after much persuading, convinced her mother to purchase a computerized point-of-sale system. Up until then they had been using pen and paper. Terms such as ‘operating expenses’ and ‘gross profit’ entered Lara’s vocabulary, while others such as ‘shrink’ (theft) became taboo, akin to swearing. Once, Linda caught someone trying to shoplift a silk negligee. She grabbed the closest thing to her—the arm of a mannequin—and chased the would-be shoplifter out of the store and down the street. Sue Evans just happened to be having a latte at Alpaca Coffee when she saw the scene and took a picture.
The next day, the picture made it to the front page with the headline ‘Watch Out, She’s Armed!’. Linda thought she would be ruined, but the outpouring of goodwill from the community was tremendous. Well-wishers, regulars, and new customers came to the store in a show of support, and for a time, business was great. Linda was able to hire two employees and took a week off to vacation in Orlando with her daughter.
A few years later, however, the Glenridge Mall opened, housing numerous large fashion retailers with rock-bottom prices. Over the past year, Linda was forced to lay off her two employees, and Lara, now seventeen, would go to school during the day and mind the shop at night.
Tension grew between Lara and her mother, with screaming fights occurring almost nightly. They always seemed to start over the smallest of issues, like what to make for dinner. Lara, like her mother, had a nasty temper and once she got going, it was difficult for her to stop.
Lara’s temper had cost her many friends in high school, and on top of that, she was often made fun of for the family business. Although she was a beautiful girl, with chestnut-colored hair, deep brown almond-shaped eyes, and a round face, the other kids saw her as an easy target, and like lions stalking a wounded animal, they went in for the kill, spitting insults without remorse.
Lara did have one friend—Greg—but she had only known him since September. Greg was more comfortable around women than men, and was on the flamboyant side. The others picked on him too, because they thought he was gay. Lara didn’t think he was, but she didn’t mind either way. Greg was Greg, and he was a good friend.
Beyond her troubles at school, Lara had another little issue she thought of as her sleeping problem: She seemed to be able to slip in and out of other people’s dreams. Usually, this happened without her even knowing. When she was much younger, Lara had tried to talk to her mother about it, but the conversation didn’t end well. Linda simply refused to discuss it. Ever since then, Lara would catch the occasional sideways glance from her mother—a glance tinted with fear.
Today, Lara wore a Led Zeppelin graphic t-shirt with a black knit sweater over top, and faded blue jeans. She was experimenting with what her mother critically referred to as her ‘messy rock star’ look.
Lara thought Computer Theory was one of the dullest subjects in school, and today was no exception. It was better when Mr. Alcott was teaching, but a friend of his had passed away and he had to leave for a memorial service. Their substitute teacher, Mr. Smythe, wasn’t even remotely interesting, except that he turned deep red when he was mad. Lara thought his overly round face resembled a tomato when this happened.
Still staring out the window, she let out an exasperated sigh.
“Is something the matter?” asked Mr. Alcott.
“No, nothing,” Lara responded. “Wait,” she said, sitting upright in her chair, “when did you get back?”
“I never left,” he said simply. He turned around and started writing on the whiteboard. Lara looked around the room. All the students were busy typing on their computers, uninterested in the exchange. Lara started to rub the middle of her left palm with her thumb. She looked at what Mr. Alcott was writing, glanced at her hand, and then back at the board. The words on it had changed completely.
She tried to think back. Her last memory was of being in this room, with the substitute teacher lecturing. It was boring, but she wasn’t sleepy. This is someone else’s dream, she thought.
Lara started walking toward the door, but found no handle. Okay, so I guess I’m staying in here. As she stood at the front of the room, all the students were typing furiously, save one. Greg was sitting on the far side of the room, staring out the window. She walked toward him, following his gaze, and saw a brilliant red sky. A large black dog walked past them, looked at Lara, and started wagging its tail.
“Hi,” she said, pulling her eyes away from the animal. Greg continued looking out the window. “Yeah, so, Greg, this is kind of awkward, but you’re asleep. I need you to wake up now.” He continued to stare. Lara placed her hand on his shoulder. Greg jumped, as if noticing her for the first time.
Lara felt weightless for a moment, and then had the sensation of being pulled, like she was on a roller coaster. The room faded into the high school cafeteria. People were coming and going, eating, and being generally boisterous. She looked around, searching for Greg.
“Marco!” she called out.
The cafeteria was made mostly of cement blocks painted a grey-white color, with a border of navy blue across the top. Go Wildcats! she thought sarcastically. She walked past a large red door that led into the rear hallway.
In recent years, the school board had been closing schools based on enrolment numbers. Her school, Leaside, had been on the chopping block. At one time, it had held over 500 students, but now it had only one hundred thirty-one. I’m the extra one, she would think to herself. Another school in the area, Jericho High, was touted as an alternative public high school—in other words, religious. Jericho was publicly funded, but its spiritual life department received major contributions from private donors.
The biggest issue with the old Jericho school was that it had originally been an elementary school. This meant the majority of common areas for teens were actually designed for young children. When Lara had toured the school with her mother, students were allowed to choose which high school they would attend. Eventually, though, as enrolment at Leaside dwindled, the powers that be decided to house both schools in one building. Jericho would take the upstairs, while Leaside would take the downstairs. Students from Leaside were not allowed upstairs, while students from Jericho were not allowed downstairs, with the exception of the cafeteria, gym, and library, which were all on the ground floor. This created a double standard the Leasiders disliked, and resulted in some smugness from the Jericho students.
One good thing that came from the merging of the schools was the renovations. Jericho held chapel every morning, but Leaside had no facilities for this. Over the course of a year, the cafeteria was extended, and a stage was added to make it into an auditorium and chapel. It was still used as a cafeteria, so students began to refer to it as the ‘cafe-chapa-torium’.
Leaside’s numbers continued to dwindle while Jericho’s swelled. Lara was in her last year of high school now, and rumors were circulating that Jericho would take over completely. Principal Williams laughed it off when asked, but she seemed to be growing ever more worried as the school year went on.
As Lara stood in the middle of the crowd, she continued to look around, but it was impossible to tell where Greg was. A small group of students formed, and she made her way over through the throngs of people.
The growing circle surrounded two boys: One was a teenager from Jericho, who Lara recognized by his uniform; the other was a plain-clothed boy. Greg. The uniformed student was shouting obscenities and senselessly beating Greg, who was desperately trying to cover his face.
She remembered when this actually happened, but it had been different. The real fight only lasted thirty seconds before it was broken up by several teachers. Greg was checked out by paramedics while the other boy received a suspension. Now, the pummelling just kept happening.
Lara looked up from the beating to see herself. The other Lara just stood watching, useless. Greg must have asked himself why his only friend wasn’t helping him. She had felt so guilty, but at the time, she was paralyzed, unsure of what to do. As she watched the beating continue, something inside of her let go. She would not let this happen again. Lara walked to the Jericho boy, grabbed him by the shoulders, and threw him clear across the crowd and against the wall. The boy crumpled like a rag doll. Well, that’s new, she thought to herself, looking down at her arms.
She crouched and put her hand on Greg’s shoulder. “Are you alright?” she asked. He looked up at her through his black rectangular glasses, his face oddly calm. She stood and pulled him up to a standing position.
They both looked over at the crumpled heap on the floor. “Not so tough now, are ya?” Greg called out. Lara smiled to herself.
“So you wanna go ahead and wake up now?” she asked.
“Huh? I’m not asleep,” he replied, straightening his clothes.
“Yes, you are. Wake up!” Nothing happened. Greg stared at her blankly. “What was the last thing you remember?” she asked.
“I... I was in computer class with Mr. Alcott. No, it wasn’t Mr. Alcott, it was someone else. A substitute,” he replied, looking at the floor. “I’m asleep? I don’t feel asleep.”
“Yes, now wake up!” she said, frustrated. Lara placed her hand on his shoulder for the third time. Still, nothing happened. “This is weird. Usually someone wakes up quickly when I want them to.”
“I’m dreaming? This doesn’t feel like how I dream. Are you sure it’s mine?” asked Greg.
“Where did everybody go?” asked Lara, her eyes moving about the area.
Greg turned around; almost everyone was gone except for the student from Jericho, who was still slumped in the corner. “Maybe it’s his dream.”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I’ll try and wake him,” said Lara.
“Wait, if it’s his dream, how are we here?”
The lights in the cafeteria dimmed slightly, and darkness seeped into the room. Lara was still able to see clearly, but her surroundings had a muted appearance. The sun itself was even shining less brightly. A coldness entered the room, biting at Lara’s skin, and she wrapped her arms around herself and hugged tightly in an attempt to keep warm. She glanced at Greg. He was doing the same thing.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
A low hissing sound issued from behind the red doors toward the rear of the room. It sounded like hundreds of people speaking in hushed whispers. Lara tried to discern the words, but the voices were all saying different things. The sound steadily grew louder, and Lara instinctively took several steps back, gooseflesh breaking out over her body.
“Whatever it is, it can’t hurt us. It’s a dream, a figment of his imagination,” she said in an attempt to reassure herself more than Greg. The sounds were now a dull roar.
“We’re not a figment of his imagination.”
“And you’re not helping,” Lara scoffed.
The voices issuing from behind the door now took on an urgent tone.
She looked at the red doors and stopped walking backward. She took a deep breath, planted her feet, and balled her hands into fists. “Whatever it is, Greg, it won’t get past me.”
The sound that now came from behind the door was deafening in its ferocity. Both of them instinctively put their hands to their ears. The doors burst open to reveal a shifting, inky mass that reminded Lara of black dye in water. It did not disperse, however; instead it stayed at the doorway, floating, then slowly moved past the threshold and entered the cafeteria.
“What is that?” Lara asked. Greg didn’t respond.
A black, inky face protruded from the mass with hollowed open-spaced eyes. It looked around the room before settling on Lara. “Mare...” it said, and with incredible speed, tendrils shot up from it and darted toward them. Greg and Lara tried to run, but before they could barely turn, it had grabbed Lara and thrown her to the wall. Lara fell with a thud, the breath knocked out of her. The creature then wrapped a tendril around her waist, pressing her against the wall while raising her toward the ceiling. Lara looked at the black swirling mass before her. The face again appeared, and its eyes studied her. Somehow the face did not settle into a single appearance, but it constantly shifted.
“You’re not real...” she said, spots now forming in her field of vision. The creature pressed harder on her. Lara tried to breathe, but the pressure on her torso was too much. Darkness crept into her vision; her head felt light. The face of the creature stopped shifting. It looked at her appraisingly before recognition filled its face. Lara felt the tendril start to loosen as she was slowly lowered.
Lara watched below as Greg grabbed a chair. He ran at the thing, throwing the chair into the black mass. The creature caught it in midair, and with two of its tendrils, it ripped the chair apart. It then struck Greg with such force that he was catapulted into the adjacent wall.
At that instant, both Greg and Lara awoke. Greg fell out of his chair, while Lara screamed loudly. The class started snickering.
“What’s going on back there?” asked Mr. Smythe. Lara took in her surroundings, looking around the room frantically. Greg stood up quickly, diverting the attention to him.
“Sorry, Mr. Smythe,” he said, sweat beading on his forehead.
“I want to see you both in the hallway. Now.”
Lara and Greg looked at each other. They both walked cautiously toward the door.
“Freak!” yelled out one of the other students, which was followed by a round of laughter. Lara made a rude hand gesture at them.
Smythe turned on his heel to face them. “Listen, I will not have you two disrupting my class. I don’t know what games you two are playing,” he said, holding his finger out, pointing alternately at Lara and Greg, “but I will not be party to it.” Smythe’s round face was turning red and tomato-like.
The pair looked at each other before Lara responded, “Yes, sir.” Smythe looked at them for a few more moments. Lara got the impression he was trying to compose himself.
“Go back inside.” The two of them walked back into the classroom, which had broken into a dull roar of voices.
“We need to talk,” Greg said.
“Uh, yeah,” she responded sarcastically, taking her seat.