Addie Proctor had seen much in her eighty-one years in this magnificent, turbulent country impossible with possibility, and so she knew to be afraid now, for they’d reached a tipping point. There were ghosts everywhere in the country, and no one seemed to notice. People danced while the dead watched them through the windows. And all the while, the man in the stovepipe hat gained power. He was coming.
Though she had been warned against it, Addie went to the basement, where she drew the marks upon the floor in chalk and muttered the prayers, performing the small ministrations of salt and blood, rituals to keep the dead away.
She hoped it would be enough.
“Henry!” Ling called as she walked the familiar path past the giant Spanish elms of the bayou. Henry and Louis, bathed in sunshine, sat on the weathered dock. Henry responded with a wave. “Hurry! Before our alarms go off,” Ling said.
“Be right there!” Henry called back.
“’Evenin’, Miss Ling!” Louis shouted and waved to her. The sun shone brightly down on him, and Ling got a funny feeling in her stomach, some warning she couldn’t yet name.
“All good dreams must come to an end,” Henry said, joining her, flushed and happy as they walked the forest path. “What’s that mark on your dress?”
“Dirt,” Ling said, snapping back to the moment. She brushed at the stubborn stain.
“I thought it was another experiment. Like the ash.”
“No, but I do need your help. I want to see if I can wake you from inside the dream.”
Henry shrugged. “All right. I’m game. What do you want me to do?”
“You only need to stand still.”
“Sounds like my music career so far.”
“And stop making jokes,” Ling chided. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
“Here goes: Henry. It’s time to wake up,” Ling said. Nothing happened. “Wake up, Henry!” Ling said again, louder this time.
“Try shaking me awake,” Henry suggested.
Ling grabbed Henry by the shoulders and shook him, softly at first, then more violently.
“Whoa there! Don’t want to scramble my brains!”
“Huh.” Ling reached over and pinched Henry’s arm.
“Ow! Is this science or just an excuse for you to beat me up?”
“Sorry,” Ling said sheepishly. She stood back, thinking. “There’s got to be a way.…”
“Maybe I should try to wake you up,” Henry said.
Ling scoffed. “I am not very suggestible.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“No,” Ling said. “Just a fact.”
Henry arched an eyebrow. “Care to put that to the test? For science?”
“It will be a waste of your time, but be my guest.”
“All right, then.” Henry raised his hand like a sorcerer. “Oh, Ling Chan, Madame Curie of the dream world,” he intoned dramatically, barely keeping a straight face. “Sleep hath released thee! Now is the time thou must waketh!”
Ling rolled her eyes. “You’re an idiot.”
“Fine. I will be pos-i-tute-ly serious.” He cleared his throat and stared at Ling. “Wake up, Ling.”
After several long seconds, Ling smirked. “I told you so,” she said, breaking off a sprig of pine from a nearby tree and inhaling its fragrance.
Henry had been kidding before, but now he wanted to rise to the challenge. If there was a way for them to wake themselves inside the dream, there’d be no need for alarms. Theta wouldn’t be angry with him, because she wouldn’t know he was dream walking. He thought about it for a minute. How had he helped Theta change her nightmares?
Henry turned to Ling once more. “Darlin’, you’re tired and you need your sleep. You’d really like to wake up now, back home in your bed, so why don’t you?”
Ling’s mouth went slack, and her face settled into a peaceful expression. And then, with the briefest sigh, she vanished from the dream world. For a moment, Henry was too stunned to move.