41.
     Stephen sat in his next class in a daze, anxiously
waiting for the day to end.  The teacher's words were
nothing but a blur, as he glanced furtively at the clock.
Stephen drifted in and out of consciousness, feeling an
intense compulsion to close his eyes and drift off.  He
forced himself to stay awake during the next two classes,
remembering almost nothing of what the teachers had said.
     He exited his last class and headed down the hallway
towards his locker.  He opened it, and stared again at the
dragon pictures.  He vividly imagined himself as a scaly
beast breathing fire, as it torched evil enemies.  It
growled with rage as its mouth opened wide - revealing
forked tongue and razor teeth as it shot out a stream of
smoking orange fire.  It reduced the enemies to nothing but
lumps of burnt flesh.  After the battle was over, he soared
back to his lair with effortless grace - his leathery wings
whooping and whooshing through the air.
     Stephen gathered his notebooks and a Social Studies
text.  He had a report on East European history due in a few
days, and in spite of everything needed to get it done.  He
snorted as he thought how unimportant this all was - the
fabric of the universe was unraveling and he was part of a
team that would stop it.  Hitler's plundering of Poland
during World War II seemed pretty insignificant by
comparison.
     Stephen decided to check on Allison again.  The simple
pleasure of walking with her would provide some measure of
relief from the stress that was making his stomach do flip-
flops.
     He walked past the cafeteria towards the office again.
He entered, and asked the receptionist how Allison was
doing.
     "Oh, hi, Stephen.  She's still resting. you can go in
there and wake her up if you want.  She's been in there most
of the day."
     Stephen nodded and walked into the infirmary.  He
looked at the helpful posters upon the walls - warning of
childhood ailments with colorful cartoon characters.  One
featured a vibrant smiling toothbrush as he espoused the
wonders of fluoride and the evils of tooth decay.  "Mr.
Smiley saves the day!" the poster screamed at him in a
garish blue font.  The bright white smile of Mr. Smiley
shone brilliantly, as the evil Mr. Plaque was vanquished
once again.
     Other posters warned of the dangers of drugs and
smoking.  Again with the cartoons.  Condescending talking
puppies wearing sunglasses spoke of how not to get mixed up
with the wrong crowd.  One dog reminded Stephen of Sgt.
McGruff - the dog that takes a bite outta crime.  Stephen
smirked at the sight of the dog as he rescued Billy and his
friends from `The Bad Crowd'.  To say it was insulting to
the intelligence would be an understatement.
     Stephen watched Allison sleep for a few moments,
admiring her as her eyes twitched beneath the eyelids.  Her
eyes slowly opened, and she slowly adjusted to her
surroundings.  A broad smile crept over her lips as she saw
Stephen was waiting for her.
     "Hey.  Have you been waiting long?" She asked.
     "Nope.  Just a few minutes.  I was having fun laughing
at the posters above you."
     "Yeah.. Seriously condescending, eh?"
     "Yes, there are.  How are you feeling now. the
secretary said you slept most of the day away."
     Allison stretched and began to sit up. "Yes, I guess I
did.  Had some seriously messed up dreams."
     Stephen's eyes light up.  "Did you travel anywhere
special?  I found my oasis today.  It was cool. it was like
my soul was being filled with energy."  He smiled at the
thought.
     "Nope.  Went to a beach.  Then this stupid giant
lobster thing was chasing me.  Then I remember a bunch of
weird creatures.  Jellyfish, bats, and catfish with
spiderlegs."
     She wrinkled her nose. "The jellyfish smelled like
ammonia."
     "Sounds weird.  Why was the lobster thing chasing you?"
     She paused before answering.  "I don't know.  It's like
it knew who I was.  In my gut I felt like I knew it too."
     Stephen couldn't resist.  "Been hanging out at the fish
market too much?"
     Allison burst into laughter as she swung at him
playfully.  Stephen laughed as well.
     "Very funny.  This crazy thing was way bigger than
anything at the market."  She felt a slight chill crawl up
her arms as images of the creatures flashed through her
mind.
     She shuddered.  "The thing scared the crap out me.
Seriously. it's like it wanted to eat me or something."
     Stephen sat down on the cot beside Allison and wrapped
his arms around her.  The good humor of a few minutes ago
was replaced by a slight feeling of dread.  Allison trembled
slightly.
     They sat in silence for a few moments, and then stood
and exited the infirmary.  They both took one last look at
the posters - they weren't nearly as funny as a few minutes
ago.  The cloud of impending dread was very difficult to
shake.
     Stephen and Allison waved goodbye to the secretary and
headed towards the big brown double doors at the entrance.
     They opened the doors and headed outside.  The parking
lot outside was bustling with activity as the bell rang and
the doors opened.  Parents waited in idling cars, kids ran
across the field behind the school.  Snippets of excited
conversation drifted through the air, as each student sipped
freedom as a connoisseur sips a fine wine.  They ran from
the school as if it were on fire - anxious to enjoy every
drop of freedom.
     Stephen and Allison walked hand in hand towards home.


     Along the way, they spoke first about the upcoming
dream training, and then about Allison's father and the
impending trial.  Stephen's eyes flashed with concern as
Allison bit her lip nervously.
     "I've been an emotional wreck as long as I can
remember.  I've managed to put up a brave front, but
sometimes I feel like a crumbling statue."
     Stephen looked deeply into her eyes and nodded.  "I'm
just glad I'm here to help.  Guess I'm the glue that keeps
you together even though you're cracking."
     "Don't you mean cracking up?" Allison laughed.
     Stephen grinned.  "No. I don't think you're crazy.
After all we've been through, it's amazing you're not."
     Allison smiled and then sighed deeply.  "Thank you.  I
needed that."
     They walked towards the 7-11 and decided to stop in for
Slurpees.
     The machine squirted out the goopy rainbow-colored
liquid into two plastic cups.  Stephen swirled his straw
around, and the clean layers of Mountain Dew, Coke, and
Orange became a brownish stew that looked like baby shit.
     Allison wrinkled her noise in disgust.  "That is so
disgusting!  How can you drink that?"  She slurped at her
plain Coke Slurpee, the dull throbbing headache of a
brainfreeze making her head numb.
     "Owww.. Brainfreeze!" She laughed.
     Stephen smiled, and walked over to the cashier.  He
paid for the Slurpees and exited the store.  Allison was
still inside looking at some of the magazines.  She ruffled
through the most recent issue of Popular Science and then
placed it back on the shelf.
     I'm in love with a nerd.  He thought.

     They walked past the library, and towards Maple.  The
sun was just beginning to set, as fingers of darkness crept
towards them.  They turned west towards Maple, and arrived
at Stephen's front door.
     They entered and sat down in the living room.
     Stephen's parents sat together on the couch.  His mom's
face was as white a sheet - she looked like she had just
seen a ghost.  His father sat beside her, his massive frame
sinking the couch cushions.  He looked like he was having a
hard time holding it together.  It was a sight that made
Stephen very uncomfortable.
     "Could you come in here for a minute?  We need to tell
you something." His mom said.
     Her eyes flashed down to the couch and then over
towards her husband, as if needing strength to continue.
     Stephen and Allison sat down together on the brown well-
worn loveseat across from his parents.
     "First of all, this will be very upsetting for both of
you.  Allison especially."
     Stephen put his Slurpee down on the end table to his
left.  Beads of water dripped down the cup.  He watched them
trickle towards the bottom of the plastic.
     "I got a call at work today from Central Memorial.  It
was from a Dr. Smythe."  She began.
     Stephen's heart raced, as he psyched himself up for the
news.  Had one of his favorite aunts or uncles gotten sick?
     "The doctor asked if there was an Allison Moyers living
here."
     Stephen felt slight relief, and then a pang of guilt as
he heard this.
     "He wanted to know because her father was found in his
jail cell.  He was sprawled out unconscious on the floor -
when the guards found him, they called 911 because they
thought he was dying."
     Allison's eyes began to shine with tears as her lips
trembled.
     "They tried CPR but couldn't get him to wake up."
     "Is he going to live?" Interrupted Allison.
     "They don't know at this point.  He seems to be in some
kind of coma.  The doctor was completely baffled as to the
cause.  They're going to run some more tests, he said."
     Tears streamed down Allison's cheeks as everyone sat in
silence.  Stephen curled him arm around Allison's shoulder,
and she rested her tear-streaked face on his chest.
     Allison sniffled.  "I. I know I should hate him.  I do
hate him for what he did to me.  But the small part of me
that remembers the way he used to be. it hurts. It just
hurts."  She trembled as more tears trickled down her nose.
She brushed them away.
     Stephen's father looked over to Allison and said:
     "I can't imagine what you're going through right now.
But we are all here to help in any way we can."  He looked
down at the floor as if what he had just said was woefully
inadequate.
     "Thank you."  Allison whispered.
     "God. I'm so confused.  I hate him for what he's done,
but I still love him.  I think deep down part of him still
loves me.  I just wish things were like when Mom was alive."
Her words trailed off.
     Stephen and his parents nodded, and looked down at the
carpet.  A cloud of silence drifted through the room.  It
was broken by Allison's words:
     "When can I see him?"
                             42.
     During supper that night, conversation was sparse.
Allison barely touched her food, as she seemed to be a
million miles away.  Stephen glanced over at her with
concern, and continued eating the meatloaf his mom had
prepared.  Allison continued picking at her food for a few
minutes and then got up from the table.
     She told everyone she was feeling a little light-
headed, and went upstairs to lie down.  Stephen rose and
asked if she needed help upstairs.  She answered that she
should be able to make it on her own.
     After Allison left, Stephen's thought turned to
tonight's training.  Every nerve jumped with anticipation as
he thought back to the last session.  He finished off the
last bit of meatloaf and brought his plate to the sink.  He
went up to his room to start on the Social Studies report.
     He sat at his desk and opened the well-worn textbook.
He thumbed through the pages and burst out laughing when he
saw some of the graffiti.  Someone had given a picture of
Hitler a beard, long curly moustache, and devil's horns.
Stephen flipped through the book, but his thoughts refused
to organize themselves.  They were nothing but wisps of
ideas that were tangled into a mass like a ball of string.
He managed to bang off seven or eight pages after a massive
amount of effort.  He closed the textbook and glanced at his
watch.  With surprise, Stephen noticed it was already 10:30.
He went to the bathroom to brush his teeth.
     He took a moment to look at himself in the mirror.  The
lines and dark circles beneath his eyes was evidence of the
toll the events of the past week had taken on him.  He
looked older than a young teen, as if the knowledge of what
lay ahead was a burden that revealed itself in his droopy
baggy eyes.
     He spat foamy water into the sink, and walked back down
the carpeted hallway to his room.  He crawled into bed and
closed his eyes.  With a massive sigh, he felt the tension
of the day seep out of him.
     He drifted in the netherworld between being awake and
asleep, and felt his stomach flutter as his mind awakened as
his body slept.
     The inky black void stretched out to infinity before
him as he drifted through the vacuum.  He waited patiently
for the others to arrive.
     Kirk was the first.  In the distance, Stephen could see
a small flesh colored blob. It grew in size, morphing arms
and legs as it approached him.  Kirk's ever-present grin was
planted firmly upon his face.
     "Hey, Steve-O.  Ready for phase two of the training?"
     "I... I guess so.  My mind is still reeling from the
last time we were here."
     "Yeah. I know what you mean, man.  This is definitely
some freaky shit."
     Allison appeared in the distance as a speck of glowing
ethereal light.  She floated over to them, and the light
became a ball of glowing flesh.  Arms and legs sprouted from
the mass, as her head popped out from the top.  Stephen
looked impressed.
     "You're getting pretty good at that."
     "Thanks.  It's wild what we can do if we set our minds
to it."
     They waited for the dream master.

     Several balls of light floated in the distance, looking
like largish stars in the distance.  Colors emanated from
them, as blots of lighting crackled from the center.  They
flew together and fused into a massive luminous ball that
was seething with energy.  Bluish white sparks flew off of
it as it shifted into a humanoid mass that was as bright as
the sun.
     Stephen shielded his eyes from the glare.  The dream
master stood before them.  He looked very serious.
     "Welcome everyone to the second and last part of the
training."
     Everyone nodded and prepared themselves for the task
ahead.
     "First of all, notice that we have complete control
over our body shape within this realm.  Our Ka controls
every aspect of our being.  When we change shape, we
consolidate our power at will.
     Notice that it cannot be forced.  Our spirit flows
within us, and can be molded like clay.  With each change,
we assume the energy of that form."
     The master's arms and legs flowed back into a ball of
light, and he changed form again.  The ball of light faded
to black, and sprouted hairy spider legs. Mandibles sprouted
from his head, as the dream master crawled through the void.
     His legs then shrank back into his body, as his spider
head shrank.  The ball of light brightened to the silken
white glow again and floated in front of them.
     The dream master's voice drifted over them:
     "With this control comes the possibility of also
changing our surroundings.  This power is limited to some
extent, but when our Ka is combined becomes even more
powerful."
     The blackness began to bleed psychedelic streams of
color.  It shifted and glowed in a rainbow of hues that
swept through the void.  The colors separated into layers
and floated towards the top of the curtain.  The blackness
became a softly shifting rainbow-hued glow.
     The color settled to a light green, and then dissolved
into a light blue.  The blue began to form droplets of water
in front of them.  The droplets melded together into what
looked like the inside of a fish tank.  Stephen felt himself
float through the frigid water, and instinctively gasped for
air.  He swam towards the surface with the others.
     In the distance he could see a reddish orange cliff,
and a sandy beach littered with sharp rocks and various bits
of garbage.
     They swam towards shore, gulping for air as they bobbed
through the sea like safety buoys.  They arrived at the
shore and sat upon the warm sand.  After a few moments of
rest, the master continued.
     "We have complete control over our surroundings.  You
may be wondering why I've brought everyone here.  The answer
is quite simple.  This realm is crawling with Dream Demons."
     Allison's eyes flashed with terror as she noticed the
creatures massing in the distance along the shore.
     "Oh my god.  I've been here before.  That lobster thing
was chasing me.  Why are we here again?"
     "This will serve as our training ground.  The creatures
here have not fully formed into Dream Demons.  They are not
as powerful as the creatures that have cleaved the bounds
between worlds."

     The creatures shrieked as they spotted them.  The
lobster creature was the first to crawl over, its claws
clicking with anticipation.  Jellyfish floated in the air,
tentacles rustling the sand beneath.  The scent of ammonia
permeated the air as bats joined the melee.  The high-
pitched squeals shot through the air.
     A seething ball of light shot out of the dream master's
body.  Another from Allison, another from Stephen.  Kirk's
energy mass joined the pulsating form in front of them.  It
crackled and sparkled with electricity.
     The creatures advanced towards them.  With a swoosh of
power, a bolt of lightning shot from the mass of light.  It
struck a jellyfish and the hellish creature shrieked in
anger.  It sped toward them, its tentacles flailing wildly.
Slime dripped down to the sand below.
     A flash of purple lightning shot from the center of one
of the bat creatures.  It missed Stephen's head by a few
inches, causing him to recoil in horror.
     More bolts flashed from the center of pulsating mass of
light.  One of the sparkling beams struck a snake, and it
melted into a mass of squirming flesh.
     Another bat swooped down over Allison's head.  Its
razor teeth dug into her shoulder as she shrieked in
disgust.  She flapped her arms at the beast but its teeth
plunged further into her flesh.  She screamed in pain.
     A small pulsating mass of blue light floated from the
Dream Master'ss right palm.  It streaked towards the bat,
and shot through it.  The bat collapsed upon the sand, as
dark blood seeped out.
     It squealed once more, twitched, and then was still.
     The creatures halted as Allison sat upon the sand.  She
looked at her wound and winced in pain.
     The sand beneath her feet began to shift and distort.
Allison's stomach plummeted as she felt herself tumble into
a deep pit.  At the bottom she could see a beam of light.
     She flew downwards towards the light until she found
herself back in the void.  She looked up, and could see
Stephen and Kirk above her.  They drifted down beside her,
and then were joined by the dream master.

     "You may be wondering what happens next.  That I do not
know.  I can bend and distort the dream world, but I cannot
foresee the future."
     They stared at the master with wide-eyed shock and awe.
     "There is one thing I should let you know, however.  My
time within this plane is limited.  My soul is not as strong
as it used to be, and I fear that my spirit may soon wither
and die."
     The shock and awe was replaced with looks of confusion
and fear.
     "Master. you cannot die.  How will we defeat the
demons?  We are not powerful enough!"  Kirk protested.
     "That is were you are wrong, young one.  I have shared
with you all of the tools I own.  There is nothing more that
I can give.  You are powerful enough."
     The master let out a deep sigh.  "This is the last time
we shall meet.  I must return to my oasis one final time.
My spirit is crying for eternal rest.  I hope that what I
have shared will serve you well."
     The master faded away into a ghost-like apparition.  He
levitated in front of the group, and then drifted into the
distance.  Soon, he was nothing but a small speck of light.
The light faded to nothing.
                             43.
     Wind swept through the emerald green leaves above the
dream master's head.  Rain drizzled the air, as flashes of
lightning streaked the dark sky above.  The dream master sat
upon the damp ground and felt a chill creep over him.  A
twinge of nervousness pulsed through his stomach as his
heart sat in his chest like a lead weight.
     Every nerve in his body was screaming at him to fly
from his oasis.  The corruption had begun.  Soon, his dream
paradise would become the site of his demise.
     Memories flashes over his vision.  With a heavy heart,
he calmly waited for his fate to be sealed.
     He closed his eyes, and slowed his breathing.  He tried
to purge all negative thought from his mind, but remnants of
darkness remained.  The vessel that collected his spirit
force was nearly empty now, as each drop began to evaporate.
He felt like his strength was being drained from him like a
battery that was beginning to run down.
     He opened his eyes and watched as the sky darkened to a
shade of deepest black.  The trees above him withered and
died as the strong smell of rotting flesh swam through the
air.
     The ground beneath him trembled and quaked, as the sky
became a solid mass of blackness above him.  Cracks sprouted
in the grass ahead of him, as the trees crashed downward
into large splinters.  They fell to the ground with a loud
crash, sending dirt and small pieces of wood flying.  The
tree branches dissolved into the ground, as the rain pelted
his skin.  It stunk like an acid.  The dream master looked
down at his arms, and could see small sizzling holes spread
through the skin.  The pain sizzled through his body as the
acid rain tore at his skin.  Small droplets of blood seeped
through the holes, as small pockets of smoke rose into the
air.  The droplets of rain increased in size and force
steadily until the master found himself sitting in a puddle
of toxic liquid that burned his flesh when it touched him.
     The master cried out, as the flesh dissolved from his
body, leaving gleaming white bone the color of fine china.
Rain dripped onto his legs.  The flesh and skin dissolved as
if it were melting chocolate.  Blood dripped unto the ground
below, as the master writhed in agony.
     More trees crashed into the ground around him, as the
master could feel his life force ebbing out of him.  He
waved his arms in front of his eyes, and could see the bone
began to dissolve away piece by piece as it was eaten away
by the stinging acid rain.  More smoke rose from his fingers
and what used to be his forearm.  It dissolved away to
nothing.  The master looked down, and watched as his thighs
melted away into the ground below.  A small white puddle of
liquified bone bubbled at his feet, and then slowly
evaporated.  His torso was next.  Blood squirted through his
chest cavity as acid drops pelted his heart.  It shrank and
sizzled, tendrils of smoke drifting through the air as the
toxic liquid seared the slowly pulsating organ.  It shrank
away to a small ball of lacerated flesh, and then dropped to
the ground with a soft plop.  It continued to smoke as more
drops hit it until it was nothing but a small flat mass.  It
flowed into the ground, seeping into a large crack that
opened up below.
     The crack widened below the master's feet.  The inky
bottomless pit below sent shockwaves of terror through the
last of his consciousness as it began to wink out.
     The creatures appeared above him as patches of solid
blackness swam over his vision.  The bats were first,
leathery wings whoomping through the air as hellish shrieks
assaulted his ears.  Next, glowing pink jellyfish stinking
of ammonia swam towards what was left of the master as beads
of flesh dripped down his face.  They turned into crimson
streams that looked like melting wax as it drips down a
candle.  The master's skull compacted in on itself with a
loud crunch.  It shattered like an eggshell, and pieces fell
to the ground below.  The pieces sizzled and shrank as the
rain increased in intensity - becoming a tumultuous
downpour.
     The china white shards of his head dissolved to
nothing; looking like a small pond of white paint before
evaporating completely.
     The cracks in the ground spread below him as the dirt
was eaten away by the acid rain.  The ground dissolved away
to nothing, and the dream master found himself back in the
void.
     His oasis had been destroyed, as had his body.  Massive
lobster creatures skittered above his head, crawling through
the blackness with claws clicking and clacking constantly.
Very little of the dream masters body remained, but they
descended on him like maggots on rotten flesh.
     The dream master attempted to float away but found that
his spirit was frozen in space.  He felt like a fly encased
in amber, or a frog pinned to a tray as it was about to be
dissected.
     The pincers tore through the landscape of his mind,
rending and tearing every fiber of his spirit.  His
consciousness began to wink out as he felt his life force
seeping from his soul.  The vessel that carried his spirit
was nearly empty now.
     Memories of Allison, Stephen, and Kirk flashed through
what was left of his mind.  His last thought was a message
of hope, sent through the cosmos to his friends.  It was the
end for him, but for his brave comrades the battle was just
beginning.
     The dream master was no more.
                             44.
     The next morning Allison was travelling towards the
hospital to see her father.  Stephen offered to go with her,
but she refused.  It was something she had to do on her own.
She called the school counselor first thing in the morning,
and let him know she would be taking the day off.  He
thought it would be cathartic for her, and agreed it was a
good idea.
     She peered out the dirty bus window, lost in thought
about how she would handle this.  The bus stopped at a red
light, and then proceeded west towards Central Memorial.
The hospital loomed before her.  Allison's eyes glazed over
with stinging tears as she neared the building.
     She ran the bell, and the bus screeched to a halt about
half a block later.  She exited the bus, and walked towards
the entrance.
     The automatic doors parted pneumatically, and she
entered the hospital.  The pungent scent of antiseptic
filled her nostrils.  The hospital bustled with activity as
she walked over to reception.
     She felt a weird sense of d‚j… vu, as she vividly
recalled the last time she was here.  It was immediately
after Stephen had his arm carved up by Kirk.  She pictured
sitting in the chair beside him as the doctor sewed his arm
back up.  She smiled as she remembered Stephen's look of
gratitude as she helped him deal with the injury and the
shock of what had happened.  It seemed like a lifetime ago,
but was only last week.
So much had happened recently, that her mind reeled when she
thought about it.  The receptionist was busy on the phone,
so Allison waited.
     "Yes... Dr. Smythe is in today.  He will be in a
meeting for most of the afternoon with the department heads.
Is there a message?  Ok. got it.  Thank you for calling."
The phone beeped incessantly again, and the nurse answered
it:
     "Central Memorial. can you hold please?  Thank you."
     The nurse looked up from her desk.  "Hi. Can I help
you?" she asked.
     "Yeah. my name is Allison Moyers.  I would like to see
my father.  He was brought in yesterday."
     "Ok. one sec.  Just need to look up something."  Keys
clicked as the nurse typed in the name.
     "Hmmm. there's a bit of a problem here.  Since he was
brought in under police guard, I will need you to sign a
security release form.  You'll need to give a copy to the
guard outside his door."
     "Okay."  Allison waited as the printer behind the nurse
whirred, and spat out the document.
     The nurse handed it to Allison, and she signed it.
     "Ok... Just let me call it in first.  They like to know
what is going on in advance as a precaution."
     The nurse picked the headset up, and dialed security.
     "Hey. I've got an Allison Moyers here.  She wants to
see her father - the guy that was brought in yesterday under
police guard.  Yeah. she signed the release.  Okay, I'll let
her know.  Thanks."  She hung up the phone.
     "Ok. you can go in.  You'll find him in the west wing -
through the big doors over there, and down the hall to your
left."
     "Ok. thanks."  Allison said.
     Allison hit the button that opened up the doors in
front of her.  They whooshed open in front of her.  She
walked down the hallway, peering every once in a while into
some of the rooms.  Her natural curiosity was getting the
best of her, it seemed.
     The majority of the patients in this wing were quite
old.  They were hooked up to ominious-looking machines that
beeped as they monitored heartbeats, and general vital
stats.  IVs stood guard beside the beds like rail-thin steel
soldiers.
     Allison walked down the green-tiled hallway, dreading
seeing her father again.  She needed to see him, to talk to
him - even if he couldn't hear the words.
     She arrived at his room and handed the release form to
the officer standing guard.  He looked bored to the point of
tears.  He reached over, grabbed the paper, and filed it
away in a small manila folder that rested on his lap.
     "Ok. you can go in.  Let me know if he wakes up.  He's
still a dangerous guy, you know.  I'll be just outside the
room.  Holler if you need me."
     The guard sat back in his chair and grabbed a paperback
beside him.  He flipped the book open, and began to read.

     Allison stood at the doorway for a few moments, and
stared at the man upon the bed.  She recognized the
features, but everything felt unreal as if she was in a
dream. In this one, she couldn't fly to other universes.
This was reality and it stung her heart.  She walked into
the room, and sat on a chair across the bed.  The heart
monitor beeped incessantly above her head, green lines
marking off the peaks and values of her dad's beating heart.
Tubes ran from his nostrils to a shiny IV pedestal beside
the bed.  A larger corrugated plastic tube was fastened over
his mouth with white surgical tape.  He was perfectly still,
and for a moment looked like a corpse.
     Allison wondered if he was dreaming.  Tears streamed
slowly down her face, leaving reddish pink tracks as she
wiped them away with a tissue she had grabbed from the small
table beside her.
     "Dad.  It's me Allison. I know you can't hear me, but I
needed to say a few things anyway." she began.
     "There was a time a few days ago when I hated you.
Part of me still does.   I was in shock over what you had
done to me.  How could you do that to your own daughter?
Jesus. things were so different when Mom was alive."
     She inhaled a shaky breath, and wiped away more salty
tears.  One dripped into her mouth, and she felt the salty
tang on her tongue as she swallowed a mouthful of saliva.
     "I'm so sick of you drinking.  Your drunken rages make
me sick.  Why did you have to change?  Why?"  Her voice
cracked.
     She turned her head and looked out at the traffic
below.  She watched the cars drive by, and wondered what
kind of life the people inside had led.  Did they drink?
Did they molest their children?
     Allison was suddenly struck with a memory of a happier
time.  It was before her mother had succumbed to cancer -
before her life was chipped away piece by painful piece.
     A small smile crept over Allison's lips as she lost
herself in the memory.

     It was two weeks before Christmas, and Allison peered
out the kitchen window as large crystalline snowflakes fell
from the sky and peppered the sidewalk in front of her
house.  Flakes that looked like bits of dandruff blanketed
the front lawn.  The wind picked up, and blew swirls of snow
towards the window.  It stuck to the window, and frosted the
glass as the flakes melted.
     Her mother was in the kitchen baking gingerbread
cookies, and Allison smiled as the scent of rising cookie
dough drifted through the room.  Her mother peered into the
oven, and watched the cookies bubble slightly as they rose.
     "They should be ready soon, Allison."
     Allison turned and smiled at her mother.  She looked
into her mother's deep dark compassionate eyes, and felt at
peace with the world.  Her dad would be home from work soon,
and would join them for supper.  The cookies were for
dessert.  Of course, Allison would get to sample one for
helping her mother prepare them.
     "I love you Mom."  Allison said as she walked over and
wrapped her arms around her mother's neck.
     "I love you too.  You'll always be my special little
girl.  Don't ever forget that."
     A wide grin spread over Allison's lips as she gripped
her mother in a bear hug.  The smell of cookies wafted into
her nostrils and her stomach rumbled in anticipation.
     Her father arrived home from work, and Allison ran over
to him with a smile.
     "How was work, Daddy?"
     Jeff smiled.  "Pain in the ass as usual. but I'm so
glad to see you, honey.  Mmmm. what smells so good?"
     "Cookies! We made cookies."
     Jeff hugged his daughter tightly, and then walked over
to the kitchen to greet his wife.  With a grin, he snuck up
behind her as she was about to open the oven door.  Laughter
peeled from her lips as he tickled her back.  She wrapped
her arms around him.
     "I'm glad you're home, dear." she said.
     It was the day that her Mom found out she had cancer.

     Allison drifted back to reality, and thought back to
the countless hospital visits and the ache in her stomach as
she watched her mother slowly deteriorate in front of her.
The pain sat in her belly like a cold lead weight as she
relived the day her mother had told her the news.

     Allison sat with her mother on the couch watching
Scooby Do. Scooby and the gang were on the trail of some
diamond thieves that were hiding out in an old haunted
mansion.  Allison giggled as Scooby and Shaggy shakily
entered the decrepit old house, their eyes as wide as coffee
saucers.  The laugh track roared as a ghost floated before
them.  Scoob and Shaggy ran in terror back to the Mystery
Machine.  A commercial came on for My Little Pony.
     Allison's mom stared off into the distance, and then
whispered:
     "Allison. I don't want you to worry about me.   But, I
need to tell you something.  Something important."
     "Okay Mom."  Allison grabbed the remote and shut off
the TV. Scooby and Shaggy disappeared with a click.
     "This isn't easy for me to say. but I think you're old
enough to deal with it.  I'm sick, Allison.  Some test
results came back from the doctor, and they were not good.
Not good at all." her voice trailed off.
     Allison's eyes flashed with fear.  She started biting
her lower lip.
     "W-What's wrong with you, Mom?  Are you going to be
OK?"
     Allison's mother inhaled a deep breath.  Her mother's
eyes glistened with tears as she sniffled.  She looked like
she was mentally fishing for the right words, and couldn't
catch them.
     "The doctor said I have cancer.  Normally it is
treatable, but in this case has gotten into my blood.
There's not much they can do.  I'm sorry, Allison.  I'm so
sorry."
     Tears trickled down Allison's cheeks as she bit her lip
again.  She bit a little too hard, and a small droplet of
blood appeared.  She wiped it away with her sleeve.
     "I-I don't want you to d-die, Mom.  I don't w-want you
to die." she stammered.
     Her mother was silent as Allison felt her mom's arms
wrap around her.  Allison could feel her mom trembling as
hot tears streamed down her face.  Allison felt goosebumps
dot her arms as a massive chill swept through her body.

     The next few months were a blur of blood tests, days
off school, and overheard snippets of funeral arrangements.
Her mother died on a Wednesday.  It was the middle of the
afternoon, and Allison was met by her father in the school
office.  His eyes were glassy, and his fingers were shaking.
Allison knew what happened before he even opened his mouth
to tell her.  She just knew.


     The sound of the heart monitor increased slowly in
volume as Allison drifted back to reality.  The memories of
her mother left the bitter taste of bile in her throat.  She
closed her eyes, and tried to erase some of the pain.  It
stung like a physical wound, like a million wasps tearing
into her tender flesh.  The VCR in Allison's mind fast-
forwarded to six months after the funeral.

     Her father sat slumped in front of the TV, as he
guzzled from a can of Budweiser.  Ten other cans sat in a
jumble in front of him on the battle-scarred coffee table,
the standing cans looking like slightly bent tin soldiers.
     He burped loudly.  Allison sat beside him, waiting for
the yelling to begin.
     He turned to her and glared, grumbling to her about
this goddamn mess.
     After three more beers, his glare became a leer and she
was dragged upstairs kicking and screaming.
     When it was over, she ran to the bathroom, and felt a
surge of bile rush up her throat.  Her whole body convulsed
as she heaved up tonight's supper into the toilet.  Bits of
food and saliva splattered the toilet seat.  She dry heaved
a few times, feeling like she was being torn up inside.  It
was nothing compared to the pain in her groin area.  She
felt like she had been torn in two.

     Allison drifted back to the hospital room.  The heart
monitor beeped, the respirator ka-chunk whooshed, and the
nostalgic mind-movie faded to black.
     She turned her head back to the man upon the bed.  She
waited.
                             45.

     Shrieks reverberated through the inky blackness as the
creatures soared towards their destination.  They had
several more bodies in tow, as they were dragged kicking and
screaming - wrapped in silken threads of light.  The horde
amassed as a unit, and flew towards a large tear in the
dream curtain.  The bodies ceased struggling as the bounds
tightened.
     The human forms morphed into piles of alien protoplasm
- formless blobs that stank of blood and rrotten flesh.
     The shrieks increased in volume as the creatures were
joined by solid twisting black blobs and glowing purple-pink
jellyfish stinking of ammonia.
     A twirling pulsating whirlpool of rapidly shifting
light appeared in the distance.  The creatures shot towards
it, soaring through the portal to another realm.
     The blackness surrounding the creatures began to gain
form - becoming solid rock that sparkled with crystals.
     An opening appeared in the rock, and expanded outward.
Within the opening, there was a slightly dark cave lit by a
strobing white light.
     The creatures floated through the entrance, and soared
into a rocky pathway that led to a cavern filled with
stalagmites. Water, heavy with minerals, dripped from the
ceiling to the floor below.  Steam rose from the rock below
as the water sizzled through the rock. The bats soared
towards another cavern in the distance.  They shrieked again
as they soared through a crack in the left face of the
cavern.  They arrived at another cavern that glowed with an
ethereal light.  The source of the light floated in the
middle of the room - a solid pulsing mass of white that
crackled with tendrils of lightning.  The light grew in size
until it filled the room.  Crackling bolts of electricity
shot from the mass and singed the scaly rock walls.  They
left black singe marks as they crackled from the center of
the light.
     The beams of light shot towards the rock walls, and
thickened.  They became silken strands that formed beams of
light.  More beams shot from the center of the mass.  They
fastened to the walls in strands of electricity.  More
strands shot out from the mass.  The beams shifted in color
to gray and then to black.  The light in the middle then
pulsed with color, and shifted to an inky blackness that
looked like a floating spherical oil slick.  Lightning
crackled from the center of the mass, sending sparks that
trailed along the silky black strands.
     The creatures huddled around the mass as the beams
surged with electricity.  Massive lobster creatures joined
the bats as they skittered through the air, and then floated
down to the ground.  Snakes slithered through the air, and
then floated down to the ground below.  The jellyfish
pulsated with purplish hues as they drifted into the strands
and pulsated with electricity.  More creatures floated into
the strands, and hung suspended like flies in a spiderweb.
     The pulsating mass within the center expanded as legs
sprouted form the center.  Massive spider legs sprung from
the mass, as a large silky black head rose up.  The rear of
the black mass twisted and morphed into the creature's
thorax.  Mandibles twitched as the mouth began to take
shape.
     The rear of the creature pulsated rhythmically as it
expanded further.  A low deep rumbling echoed off the walls
of the cave.  The thorax of the creature expanded like an
inflated balloon, and tiny spider eggs glistening within an
egg sac dropped to the floor.
     The egg sac burst, dripping dark rust colored slime.
The eggs rolled down to the ground below, and began to
pulsate.  Small bat creatures burst from the eggs with a
splursh.  More eggs twitched and small snakes covered in
viscous slime slithered from the membranes.  Next, tiny
jellyfish squirted out of the eggs. The spider twitched and
pulsated again, and more egg sacs fell to the floor.
     The room was soon filled with the newborn creatures.
The silken cocoons of the prisoners from the original group
were placed in the middle of the swarm of squirming beasts.
They skittered over to the silken packages and began to
feed.
     Slimy tentacles pierced the silk bundle.  The sound of
slurping liquid and sucking of blood filled the cave.
     Streams of crimson ran through the silk as it was
stained with blood.  The creatures expanded as they
continued to feed.  The newborn creatures skittered through
the cavern.  They quickly grew to full maturity, and crawled
out of the cavern through the rocky entrance.
     The strands attached to the cave walls twisted and
twirled as they unraveled and fell to the floor.  The spider
creature in the center twitched and pulsated, as if
exhausted.
     More swarms of newborn creatures flowed through the
entranceway.
     The horde of creatures soared out of the cave into the
blackness surrounding the cave.  They flew towards the
pulsating whirlpool of color.
     The blackness wavered and shook as if it were
underwater.
     A bright flash shot through the darkness.  The source
of the light expanded, as it glowed with pulsing ribbons of
color.  The blackness twisted and melted.  Swirls of color
filled the blackness as the creatures soared towards the
whirlpool of color.
     The creatures shot through the portal.  The colors
swirled around them, as flashes of light pulsated through
the air. The swirling ribbons of color below dissolved and
began to form a sandy rocky beach below.  Rocky cliffs
sprouted from the sand, as waves of ice blue water drifted
towards shore.  The creatures landed on the rocky beach,
plummeting to the ground below with a crash.
     Hundreds of creatures skittered, floated, and crawled
along the beach.  They paused as if sniffing the air.  The
hivemind growled and grumbled with anticipation.
     The low rumbling of disjointed murmurs echoed through
the still evening air.
     The shrieks filled the night as they planned their
attack.

                             46.
     Dr. Randall Smythe walked down the hallway towards the
large boardroom with trepidation.  Butterflies fluttered in
his stomach as he proceeded down the hallway. He stopped by
the water fountain, and bowed down for a drink.  The ice
cold water tingled through his throat, as the nervous
twitching in his stomach spread to his fingertips.
     He approached the heavy oak door, and glanced around
the room. The blinds were slightly parted, and fingers of
shadow clawed at the massive mahogany table in front of him.
He opened his briefcase, and removed a manila folder.  He
placed the folder on the shiny table in front of him.  He
waited for the other doctors to arrive for the meeting, and
mentally rehearsed what he would say to the department head.
     He was lost in thought and didn't hear the other
doctors walk in.  Some he recognized; others he did not.  He
smiled in recognition at Dr. Phillips.  He was a slightly
gaunt man with deep penetrating eyes of blue.  They sparkled
with a keen intelligence.  Randy chuckled softly as he
recalled how much of a shit disturber Dr. Phillips could be,
in spite of his somber appearance.  His pranks on the nurses
were legendary.  Of particular note was the time he had
replaced several vials of urine sent to the lab for testing
with microwaved apple juice.  The uproar over the seriously
messed up lab results had caused no small measure of stress
for the doctors involved.  Yet, the pranks continued.  It
was simply a matter of comic relief for a very stressful
job.  It served as the safety valve that relieved some of
the intense pressure.  Without the release, the doctor's
mind would crack and burst - much like a pipe full of steam.
Without the override, the pipe would disintegrate.
     More doctors sauntered into the room and sat around the
table.  The room was a mix of senior staff as well as
residents and interns.  Some looked so green that they
seemed to be just out of college. Others wore the shroud of
years of experience - it was obvious in they way they strode
confidently into the room.  It was as if years of intense
pressure in the operating room had blessed them with a sheen
of confidence that shone like a suit of armor.
     The department head entered the room.  The gaggle of
conversation continued until he sat at the head of table.
He slid his chair closer to the table, and tilted the heavy
leather chair back.  He glanced around the room, cleared his
throat,  and began the meeting.
     "Good Morning.  I've called this meeting to get an
update on a few issues that have been going on here
recently.  Some of it is the usual boring stuff, and some is
very troublesome.  Lisa, can you begin by giving us an
update on our recent budget problems?"
     Lisa scanned the notes in front of her.  Her
nervousness was obvious.  Her eyes darted around the room as
she composed her thoughts.
     "Well. it looks like our allocation this year when it
comes to ."
     "Could you speak up, please?  We can barely hear you,"
the department head interrupted.
     She cleared her throat and repeated herself, slightly
louder this time.
     The department head seemed pleased with what he was
hearing.  He ran his fingers through the thick gray hair of
his beard, and mused for a few moments.  After she finished
the report, he turned to Dr. Smythe.
     "Dr. Smythe. you came to my office yesterday with a
very disturbing report.  Could you please share your
thoughts with the rest of us?"
     Randall glanced down at his nose, and psyched himself
up for the speech.  What he was about to say would be
unsettling to say the least.
     "Well. First of all, many of you have heard rumors
about a recent epidemic we have been having."
     He was interrupted by a sudden outburst of chatter, the
room abuzz with passionate discussion.  The department head
raised his hand to silence everyone.
     "Please.  Let Dr.  Smythe finish.  This is very
important.  Hearsay and rumor mongering will get us
nowhere!"   The conversation gradually petered out to a dull
roar.  Then the room was silent once again.  "Ok, Dr.
Please continue."
     "Thanks.  As I was saying, there have been widespread
rumors of an epidemic.  The Expositor has even done a few
articles about it."  Randall waved a newsclipping in the
air.
     "In recent months, we have had several patients arrive
in deep comatose states.  Some with vital signs barely
registering.  The strange thing is that no cause has been
found as of yet."
     Another outburst tore through the room, as eyes bore a
hole through the doctor.  Some people looked at the
department head, and then back at Dr. Smythe.
     The department head rose his hand to silence the room
again.  "That is why we are concerned.  Until a cause is
found, we will need to dedicate all our resources to solving
this issue.  Any ideas?"
     One of the freshly minted interns rose his hand.  He
was a middle-eastern man in his twenties.  His dark eyes
shone with the bright fire of intelligence.
     "Yes. Dr. Navi.  What are your thoughts?"
     "I think it may be drug related.  Have toxicology
results come back yet?" he asked.
     "Yes, they have,"  Dr. Smythe answered.  "Everything is
normal.  There is no evidence of any substance in the blood
that could be causing this.  Even the cholesterol and
insulin readings are normal."
     "What about family history?" another doctor asked.
     "That is also normal.  None of the patients are
predetermined to have any sort of cancer, diabetes, or heart
disease."
     The doctor directly across from Randall looked like she
was deep in thought.  Her brow furrowed, as her deep green
eyes sparkled.  Sunlight glinted off of her reddish brown
hair in waves of light.
     "What about brain chemistry?  Could there be something
wrong neurologically speaking?"
     The department head seemed very impressed and leaned
forward in his chair.  The rest of the room waited for the
doctor to finish speaking.  They seemed to be hanging on
every word.
     "I believe that faulty brain chemistry could be
reacting with an environmental factor.  That would explain
the recent outbreak.  Maybe it's something in the water."
She grinned at the last thought.
     Several doctors laughed nervously at the last
statement, the sarcasm providing some relief from the
tension.
     "Hmmm. that's an excellent point, Julie.  Are you
suggesting that we do brain chemistry analysis on coma
patients?  You just gave me an idea. what about brain wave
activity?"
     "What about it?" she asked.
     "What if we hooked up the patients to an EEG and
monitored the response?  Any abnormalities would show up if
they do not match baseline results."
     The department head smiled.  "Now that is an excellent
idea.  I'm assigning both of you to the research.  Let me
know in three weeks what your findings are."
     Randall glanced nervously around the room, and his eyes
met the brilliant green eyes of his new partner.  A wide
smile spread over her lips as their eyes met.  Randall's
heart skipped a beat as he watched more waves of light
glisten through her hair.  She smiled back.
     "Okay. I think we're done here.  I would like to meet
again in three weeks.  Have a good day everyone!"
     The doctors shuffled out of the boardroom, gathering
notes and papers as they stood. Dr. Navi tossed his paper
cup into the wastebasket and walked by Randall.
     "Good luck, doctor.  If there's anything I can do to
help, let me know." "Thanks, Raj.  I'll let you know.  Have
fun doing rounds, eh?"
     Raj smiled.  "I'm sure I will.  This job is many
things, but it is never boring."
     The department head left the room after wishing Julie
and Randall good luck.
     Julie's hand ran down the page as she continued
scribbling notes on the legal pad in front of her.  Randall
watched her out of the corner of his eye while pretending to
scan his own notes from the meeting.
     She finished writing, and stretched her arms out.  She
yawned loudly, stretched again and walked towards the door.
     "Julie. wait.  Did you want to go grab a coffee?  I
want to talk to you about our research."
     She turned to face him and her eyes sparkled.  "Sure.
I'd love to.  Not that crap in the lounge, though.  How's
about the caf‚ down the street?  I hear they have great
cappuccino."  She smiled at the thought.
     "Sounds cool.  I've got a break at three.  I'll meet
you there."
     "Ok. it's a date."  She smirked at his sarcasm.
     "Yes. I guess it is."
     She left the room, leaving Randall alone with his
thoughts.  The butterflies fluttered in his stomach again.


                           TRANCE
                             47.
     Stephen grunted with exertion as he ran laps in the
gymnasium. His muscles pleaded for rest, but he pushed
harder.  He outpaced the other students, as he pushed
himself harder and harder.  Anger surged through his
bloodstream as the adrenaline kicked in.  The other students
looked at him with confusion, as he ran by them.  Usually,
with laps around the gym he was somewhere in the middle of
the pack.  Today, he was in the lead, as he pushed himself
with demonic intensity.  His breath rasped in and out as his
heart pulsed a speedmetal backbeat in his chest.  Rivulets
of sweat trickled down his skin as his face reddened with
exertion.
     After six more laps around the tile floor, Stephen was
motioned over by the gym teacher.  The other students
continued to run laps around the gym, grudgingly warming up
before todays game of volleyball.
     Stephen slowed his pace and ran over to Mr. Kilgore.
Sweat continued to stream down his face, and he wiped it off
with his sleeve.
     Stephen gasped for breath, as pockets of blackness swam
before his eyes.  His fingers trembled with weakness, as he
felt the last of his energy seep out of him.
     He sat down next to the gym teacher, his knees weak and
shaking.
     A silver whistle hung around Mr. Kilgore's neck, his
gray sweatshirt slightly wet with perspiration.  Mr. Kilgore
looked down at the markings on the gym floor, and then over
at the other students.  He looked at Stephen after
collecting his thoughts.
     "What was that all about?" he asked.
     "What do you mean?"
     Mr. Kilgore sighed with frustration.  "You know what I
mean.  It's like you were trying to kill yourself out there.
What's going on with you Stephen?"
     Stephen looked down at the floor, as if the colored
markings held the mysteries of the universe.  The trembling
in his knees had subsided as his energy returned.  The black
spots in front of his eyes were becoming less dense as well.
His heart slowed to its regular rhythm as his breathing
returned to normal.  The hot flush in his skin dissipated as
driblets of sweat cooled his skin.
     He sighed.  "I'm just going through a lot recently.
I'm having a hard time dealing with it.  I just wanted to
run until I collapsed.  I wanted to get away from
everything."
     Mr. Kilgore's brow furrowed, as he locked eyes with
Stephen.
     "I was a teenager once you know.  Sometimes everything
is too much to take.  But you need to know that things get
easier with time.  Have you spoken to the counselor?"
     "No, I haven't."  Stephen laughed quietly as he thought
of the counselor's reaction.
     "Ok.  I suggest you see him.  It might help.  You're
not alone here, Steve.  Ok?"
     Stephen smiled.  "Ok."
     "All right!  Now go play some volleyball.  Just don't
kill yourself out there!" Mr. Kilgore smiled and walked over
to the group of students.  Stephen joined him a few minutes
later.
     Stephen grabbed the well-worn ball, and spiked it into
the air.  It bounced off the top of the net, and then over
to the other side.  The other team sent the ball flying back
to Stephen and he swatted it back.  As the volley continued,
some of Stephen's tension subsided.
     After the game, Stephen stood underneath the scalding
hot water of the shower.  The steam from the water drifted
through the air like fog towards shore.  Tension seeped out
of his body as blood from a wound.  He closed his eyes, and
cleared his mind.  For the first time in two weeks, he felt
at peace.
                            * * *
     Allison looked out the window of the hospital room. She
looked at her watch, and with shock realized that she had
spent most of the day talking to her father.  Her nerves
felt like torn fabric, they had been shredded by reliving
haunting childhood memories.  With a sigh, she looked around
the room, and focused her eyes on her father one more time.
She felt one last tear stream down her face.  She wiped it
away.  Her skin felt like it had been scratched with
sandpaper.
     She exited the room and said goodbye to the security
guard.
     "I'm going home now.  Thanks."
     The guard looked up from the book he was reading, and
smiled.
     "Not a problem.  Have a good night, Allison."
     "Night." She responded.

     She walked through the double doors back towards
reception.  She nodded to the receptionist as she neared the
entrance.  The doors parted like a vertical mouth, and she
walked outside.
     A cold wind drifted towards her, and it brought a
sudden chill.  Allison zipped up her jacket, and hurried
over  to the bus shelter.  She sat upon the cold wooden
bench, and waited for the bus.  Remnants of thought surfaced
in the sea of her mind like floating driftwood.  They
drifted into sight, and then disappeared back below the
surface.
     With a sigh, Allison felt some of the tension seep from
her bones.  The burden deep within her chest felt slightly
lighter now, it no longer crushed her spirit with every
breath.  She smiled as she relived the good times with her
mother.  Her smile widened as she thought back to a baseball
game she had attended with her father.
     It was about three years ago, and Allison was a bundle
of excitement for weeks before the big game.  She remembered
sitting in the bleachers munching on a hot dog - the salty
tang of the mustard, the sweet aroma of the relish.  Birds
flitted through the air, and the sun shone down on the
field.  Allison watched the players intently as the batter
knocked a fly ball to far right field.  The thundering crack
of the bat hung in the air as waves of applause and cheering
rose through the crowd.
     She smiled and looked over to her father, feeling not
like just a daughter but a princess.  Her father smiled
back.

     The bus arrived and she starred out the dusty window by
her seat near the back.  She felt her mind wander during the
trip.  She closed her eyes as more memories came flooding
back.  The sweet fresh tang of a Christmas tree as the smell
of pine drifted through the room.  Her dad beaming at her as
he strung the lights around the tree.  Excitement surging
through her chest as she inhaled deeply, made a wish, and
blew out the candles at her last birthday party.  Her
parents smiled as she tore into the wrapping paper of her
presents.  She shrieked with joy at her new toys as her
parents laughed.

     Allison awoke with a start.  She looked out the window,
and realized this was her stop.  She exited the bus, and
turned to watch it recede into the distance in a cloud of
dust and exhaust fumes.
     Stephen's house was about a half block away.  She
walked slowly, her mind still swimming in a sea of thought.
                             48.
     The rest of the day passed as a blur for Stephen.
Snippets of words surfaced in his mind, disjointed verbal
puzzle pieces that couldn't form a cohesive whole.  Thoughts
of Allison kept tumbling through his mind.  Stephen glanced
over at the clock while he was in French class.  The teacher
droned on and on about how to conjugate verbs, but Stephen
felt his consciousness drift in and out like a mistuned
radio station.

     Finally, the last bell rang.  Stephen rose languidly
from his desk, his textbooks and green well-worn vinyl
binder under his arm.  The binder fell to the ground when it
slipped from his fingers.  The metal rings clinked as they
hit the tile floor beneath his desk.  Papers flew everywhere
like a flock of birds scattering at the sound of a gunshot.
He laughed at his own absent-mindedness, bending down to
pick the papers back up. His heart leapt into his throat as
he felt a gentle nudge on his shoulder.
     Stephen turned, and found himself face to face with
Kirk's all-knowing wide-mouth smile.  A cigarette was sat
behind his ear, reminding Stephen of a rainbow-feathered
parrot perched upon a pirate's shoulder.  Stephen smiled as
he pictured Kirk sailing the high seas, his all-knowing
smirk planted upon his face as he scanned the horizon for
ships to plunder.  Stephen thought Kirk would make a damn
fine pirate - he was just cocky enough.  Probably would look
good with a patch, too.
     "You alright, dude?  Looks like you're a million miles
away. " the pirate asked.
     Stephen drifted back to reality.  He smiled at his
vivid imagination.  It wasn't the first time he was caught
with his head firmly in the clouds.
     "Yeah. Just thought of something funny.  Your smoke
reminded me of a pirate's parrot."
     Kirk's smirk grew to a smile. He laughed softly.
"Arrrrrr.. Matey!  You ever been to sea, Billy?"
     Stephen laughed and croaked in a child's voice: "No,
Captain Hindgrinder!"
     Kirk slapped Stephen on the back as fits of laughter
burst through them.  Stephen's eyes were wet with tears.
     "It's good to see ya haven't lost your sense of humor,
Steve-O.  We've been through a lot of shit lately."
     "Yeah. we have.  Like what happened with the dream
master.  Do you think he's really gone?"
     Kirk paused for a moment and looked down at the tile
floor.
     "I don't know, man.  It feels like he's gone.  But with
that guy you never know.
     Anyway. we gonna stand here all day flappin' our gums
or we goin' home?"
     Stephen laughed again.  "Yeah. let's go.  Wouldn't want
to be locked in here overnight."
     "No shit, Steve-O.  No shit."

     Students brushed by them, eager to taste every drop of
freedom.  They ran through the halls, rushing towards the
doors like paroled felons hungry to taste the fresh outside
air and ready to bask in the refreshing heat of the bright
afternoon sun.
     Kirk and Stephen walked towards the back of the school.
They passed the cluster of graffiti-covered benches.  The
slats were worn down by the rain and cracked with age.
Still, they served the purpose.
     Stephen looked at one of the benches, and noticed a bit
of graffiti he had not seen before.  `'Nocs' it read.
     "Kirk, did you notice that?"
     "Notice what, man?"
     "That graphitti. It said `Nocs'.  Looked exactly like
my scars.  Weird."
     "Yeah. guess word's been getttin' around.  Some are
whispers in the halls, some vandals spreading the name
around."
     Stephen could see the library in the distance.  The
light at the crosswalk turned green, and they crossed Wesley
Ave.  Stephen heard cars rush past in a blare of noise
behind him.  They headed towards Maple.
     "Are we going to need more people?"  Stephen asked.
     "Yeah. I think we are.  Shit, with the dream master
gone maybe we should just give up."  The mask of Kirk's
supreme confidence dropped for a moment, revealing a
frightened child beneath.  "Ahh.. fuck that.  Let's sign up
some more soldiers, man!"
     "I've never heard you talk like that, man.  It's like
you always have your shit together."
     "Yeah. well. I'm fine now, dude.  Just experiencing
some technical difficulties!"
     Stephen laughed at Kirk's sarcasm.  "Do you know that
I've always looked up to you?"  he blurted out.
     Kirk's all-knowing smirk returned.  "Yeah. I do.  It's
obvious.  At first it was like that cartoon with the two
dogs.  You know.. Spike and what's his name?"
     "Buster.. I think his name is Buster.  No. wait.
Chester!"
     "Yeah. Chester.  Anyway, it felt like you were putting
me on a pedestal.  To be honest, I admire you too, Steve-O."
     Stephen shrunk back slightly.  His brow furrowed with
confusion.
     "Why?  I'm just a nervous awkward kid.  Why am I so
special?"
     They passed the library as shadows spread over the
asphalt bread beneath their feet.  A slight wind rustled a
small pile of leaves in front of them.  The green red sign
of the 7-11 appeared in the distance.
     Stephen waited for a reply.  Kirk looked down at the
cracked sidewalk, and collected his words.  A few more
minutes passed.
     They walked by the parking lot as a dusty brown Neon
drove away, the passenger guzzling a bottle of Nestea.  The
car sped away.
     Kirk voice cracked as he replied.  "Dude.  It's cool
how you've helped Allison, and how you're so willing to help
out the 'Nocs.  I'm just grateful is all.  I also liked the
bit about me being a pirate."
     The store receded into the distance as they approached
Maple.  More leaves brushed against their feet.
     "Thanks, man."  Stephen turned to Kirk and squinted.
"I knew there was a real human being in there somewhere."
     Kirk smiled back.  His all-knowing smirk disappeared
for a moment as his grin widened.  The ominious aura that
usually hung over Kirk like a shroud dissipated.
     "It's not easy being such a hardass, you know.  I've
got a reputation to keep. "
     Stephen grinned widely.  "Yeah. a legend in your own
mind."
     Kirk burst into a fit of laughter.  "Good one, man.
You're right. I should loosen up.  Sometimes I'm wound so
tight I feel like a fucking clock.."
     "A cuckoo clock?"
     Kirk rolled his eyes.  "Very funny.  Ya ever thought of
being a comedian?"
     They both convulsed with laughter as they walked down
Maple.
     
     Stephen waved good-bye to Kirk as he grabbed the
newspaper from the rusted mailbox by his front door.  He
tucked it under his arm, and opened the door.
     The silence in the house was deafening.  Stephen
grabbed the remote from the end table and switched on the
TV.  He needed the background noise.  He placed the remote
back on the end table, and noticed the faded ring of a water
stain.  The image of water droplets dribbling slowly down
the Slurpee cup surfaced in his mind.  The look on
Allison's face as she heard about her father flashed across
his eyes.  He tried to put himself in her place, but could
not.  His imagination flashed a giant neon `Out of Order'
sign at him.
     Stephen sat upon the loveseat, and ran his hand
absently over the well-worn fabric.  He closed his eyes, and
drifted through an ocean of thoughts.
     He floated through memories of the past week.
Allison's eyes like the dark glossy eyes of a bearcub caught
in a steel trap.  The bitter acid in his throat as she told
him about her father.  The heavy weight crushing his chest
as she told him about the sexual abuse.  He remembered how
the world drifted away when she spoke, as if the fabric of
the universe was unraveling.  Reality returned as he found
the deep pools of inner strength within.  She trembled as
tears streaked down her face.  He held her, and tried to
share some of his strength.  It was the best he could do.
     Stephen opened his eyes, and reality drifted back.  He
smiled as she walked through the door.  He stood and walked
towards her.
     "Hey stranger," he mumbled.  She wrapped her arms
around his neck and squeezed.  Her eyes fluttered as she
kissed him.  Her lips parted as her tongue darted hungrily
down his throat.  As their lips locked, time seemed to stand
still.  Stephen's heart raced as he ran his tingling fingers
through her hair.
     She trembled within his arms.  Stephen smiled as he
felt a cocoon of all-encompassing warmth drift over him.
The moment passed,  but remnants of electricity still
sparked through the air.  Stephen shuddered as waves of
goosebumps crawled through his skin.
     He exhaled loudly.  "Welcome home, " he shakily
whispered.
     Allison locked eyes with him, and bit her lip.  Her
eyes shone with a brilliant white fire.  She rested her head
on his chest, and he ran his fingers through her hair again.
     She smiled and closed her eyes.
                           TRANCE
                             49.
     Allison smiled as she pulled the down comforter over
her head.  She lay her head on the soft pillow, and felt the
day's tension seep from her bones like steam evaporating
from a pot of boiling water.  She closed her eyes and let
out a long lingering sigh.  She thought back to her last
kiss with Stephen - their first real, passionate embrace.
Her smile widened as she felt her consciousness wink out
like dying embers of a campfire.
     She wasn't surprised to find herself floating in the
void.  Blackness surrounded her as if she was a caterpillar
within a cocoon.  She floated through the blackness with
very little effort, slicing through the air like a shark
cutting through the still waters of an ocean.  She pictured
a clay vessel in front of her.  It was slightly larger than
a delicate Ming vase, and was covered in ornate patterns of
swirls and unintelligible scrawls of letters.  They were in
a language she could not understand on a mental level, but
deep within her soul she felt right at home with the words.
The level of water within the vase was about half, and she
imagined water tumbling down a waterfall, foam and bubbles
gurgling at the bottom.  She imagined a tropical lagoon,
with palm trees swaying gently in the breeze and the chirps
and chatter of wild parrots with plumage the color of
rainbows.  The water tumbled towards the ground as it
gurgled.  She felt the water tingle over her skin as she sat
beneath the waterfall.  The icy water sent goosebumps
crawling through her arms as she felt wave after wave of
energy pass through her.
     The vessel filled before her eyes as she felt every
nerve jump with exhilaration.  She felt an all-encompassing
calm drift over her like a soft cloud.  The image of the
island oasis dissipated as the squawking of the wild birds
faded into the distance.
     The blackness in front of her shifted and pulsed with a
gentle strobing light.  It was if someone was clicking a
flashlight on and off in the distance.  The light shone from
the back of the dream curtain, and then began to increase in
intensity.  The pulsing became a constant brilliant white
light that suffused the void like black ink through a glass
of water.  The silken white light flashed brighter for a
second, and Allison shielded her eyes from the glare.
     When she opened her eyes, she found herself in a
restaurant.

     Forks clinked against fine white china as Allison
stared at the brilliant white linen tablecloth before her.
The pungent smell of seafood drifted into her nostrils -
spicy shards of flavor that prickled her nose hairs.  The
restaurant was bustling with activity as the contented
murmurs of other diners rang through her ears.  Allison's
plate was empty, and her stomach growled as more smells
drifted through the room.  The tangy aroma of steak,
sizzling as it was broiled to perfection.  Allison looked up
from her plate into the smiling eyes of her father.
     Waves of recognition swept through her as she drank in
more details.  The brown and black checkerboard carpet. the
red velvet high-backed chairs.  The curly scripted lettering
on the washroom doors to the left - `Sailors' for the men
and `Mermaids' for the women.  She smiled at the tacky
appeal of the place.  Her father smiled back.
     He cleared his throat.  "Allison. Have you decided
yet?"
     She shook her head as she grabbed the menu and perused
the choices.  The curly script of the washroom signs was the
menu font, the leather covering rough against her
fingertips.  She scanned the menu and the choices were
bewildering.  Her eyes ran down the page as she flipped to
the main course section.  She settled on the `King Trident
Special' - a generous assortment of crab, lobster, and
crispy fried shrimp. Side of coleslaw.
     The waiter arrived.  He was a middle-aged man with
thinning hair, and a wisp of a mustache.  His blue green
eyes glimmered as the lights above her head hit them.  He
smirked as he sauntered over to the table.  He flipped open
a small black leather-bound notebook and clicked his pen
open.
     "Welcome to Fisherman's Wharf.  Our special today is
the perch.  It's prepared in a wonderful Creamy Fennel Sauce
with a side of hand-cut fries.  May I also suggest the
Creole Fish Soup. it's so spicy it bites back!"
     Allison smirked at his sarcasm.  Out of the corner of
her eyes, she could see her dad grinning as well.
     The waiter turned to Allison first, and raised his left
eyebrow.
     "And what shall the young lady have this evening?"
     Allison smirked at his formality.  "I'll have the
`Trident Special'.  I'm in the mood for a bit of
everything."
     "Excellent,"  the waiter responded with a deep nod that
was almost a bow.
     "And for you sir?"  He asked, turning to her father.
     "Hmmm. I think I'll go with the perch.  Extra tartar
sauce, please.  Can't get enough of that stuff."   Her
father licked his lips in anticipation.
     The waiter scribbled the order down after asking what
they wanted to drink.  He snapped the notebook shut and
walked back to the kitchen.  His cloud of formality followed
him, and Allison laughed under her breath.
     "Man. could that guy be any more tightassed?  It's like
he just took a course in how to be snooty or something."
Allison burst into laughter at her father's observation.
Other diners looked up from their plates, and glared at
Allison with annoyance.  Her cheeks flushed with
embarrassment as she bit her lips to stifle another giggle.

     The food arrived about fifteen minutes later.  Allison
could smell the succulent aromas drift towards her table
before the waiter placed the plate in front of her.  The
lobster was still sizzling, and waves of pungent steam
floated around her head.  She inhaled deeply with a
contented smile and a low grumbling `MMMMM'.  Her stomach
grumbled again.
     Her father licked his lips as he scooped the tartar
sauce onto the crispy brown batter of the perch.  He smiled
with satisfaction as he gulped down tender pieces of the
crunchy fish.
     Allison reached over for her fork as she slid her chair
closer to the table.
     The lobster on her plate twitched.

     Allison clamped her eyes shut as the fork slipped from
her fingers and dropped to the carpet with a quiet clink.  A
mouthful of bile rose up from her stomach.  She opened her
eyes and stared at her plate.  The lobster was gone; leaving
nothing but gleaming white china in its place.  She looked
over to her father, but saw nothing but the high back of the
red velvet chair across from her.  She looked around the
restaurant as her heart jumped at the empty tables.  She
choked down another mouthful of bile as her eyes darted
around the room.  Nothing but a sea of brilliant white linen
on every table around her.
     She then heard something skitter across the carpet
underneath her table.  Soft scratchy whispers across from
her.  She shrieked as a spiky claw scratched her leg.  Small
droplets of blood trickled down her calf into her sock.
     She suddenly felt an intense pressure in her right calf
as the claw dug into her skin.  Sharp tendrils of pain shot
up her leg as she tried to stand.  Her head whipped from
side to side as she pushed against the table.  The chair
refused to budge like it was bolted to the floor.
     With a sickening quiver of fear in the pit of her
stomach, she felt the rough wood of the chair legs crack and
splinter.  She felt the spiky claw push her bleeding legs
into the wood, rough splinters scratching her delicate skin.
She cried out in pain as tears welled up in her glassy eyes.
The wood sealed itself back up around her calves as she
struggled to break free.  Hot shards of panic jibbered
through her brain.
     The creature skittered away with a soft rustling.
     Allison screamed until her throat was raw.  She cleared
her throat and screamed again.  The sound echoed off the
walls as she felt tidal waves of panic wash over her.
     She heard a soft scratching sound above her head.  She
looked up at the oak paneling above her, just to the left of
a ceiling fan.  Within the dark shadows she could see a
vague form that twitched as it watched her.
     Allison struggled against her bounds again and shrieked
as a silken wisp of a thread flowed down from the ceiling.
It stopped when it reached the linen tablecloth.  The strand
swayed slightly as Allison looked up again.
     Eight hairy spider legs skittered down the strand.  The
arachnid arrived at the end of strand and crawled towards
Allison.
     Hot liquid strands of silk shot from the spider like
demonic cotton candy.  Allison felt it congeal and solidify
in her hair as she screamed in disgust.
     More strands covered her as she whipped her head
violently back and forth.  She forced her eyes shut as wisps
of silk covered her eyes.  She felt the wispy threads
collect over her mouth as patches of darkness floated over
her vision.  Then it was black.
                           TRANCE
                             50.
     The incessant buzzing of Stephen's alarm clock ran
through his ears.  He grumbled, rolled over and swatted at
the snooze button for a few extra minutes of shut-eye.  He
smiled as he lay his head back on the soft pillow, drifting
back into his dream of being the lead astronaut in a
galactic adventure across the cosmos.  The alien ship
appeared in the main viewscreen, as he watched with steely
nerves - he was the picture of composure . a new -age Capt.
Kirk.  He commanded the crew to hold steady.  Sensors
indicated that the enemy's shields were beginning to fail.
With a roar, he commanded his weapons officer to fire one
final blow.  The ship was vaporized by the blast of photons
- the bright blue ray shattered the ship iinto a massive
cloud of flying debris, and then was replaced by the vacuum
and perfect stillness of space.  The crew roared with
approval and he smiled.
     The alarm clock buzzed again, and he woke with a start.
Images of saving the galaxy from alien tyrants faded as he
rubbed sleep seeds from his eyes.  He stretched, yawned
loudly, and looked at the clock with a grimace.  Stephen was
not a morning person.  He liked to wake up at the crack of
noon.
     He rose from the bed, and grabbed his jeans and T-shirt
from last night.  The shirt was a faded concert tee from a
Metallica concert a few years back that his cousin Kevin had
loaned him.  It was worn out in several places, and Pus
Head's artwork had faded away into a mess of almost
unrecognizable patches of color.  Stephen looked down at the
shirt after pulling it over his head, and a brief flood of
memories came flooding back.
     Kevin wasn't his favorite cousin, but was always
lending him things and forgetting to ask for them back.
This shirt was loaned to him back when Stephen had stayed
over for the weekend a few months back.  A stack of CDs. the
new Green day, some Weezer. from the same weekend sat in a
pile on his dresser, and Stephen made a mental note to
return the stuff when he had the chance.
     Stephen grabbed a fresh pair of underwear from the
drawer and a pair of socks that at one time long ago were
white.  He walked over to the bathroom, his feet quietly
whispering through the plush carpet.  Stephen caught a
glimpse of himself in the mirror, and was shocked at his
appearance.  Deep flesh pockets sat beneath his eyes,
accenting the deep dark circles that made his look like a
Goth zombie.  It looked like he hadn't slept in six weeks.
Steam cascaded through the room as he turned on the shower,
and sat beneath the warm spray.  He felt his body come alive
as the water ran over him.  His stomach grumbled loudly as
it demanded breakfast.  That would be a first - usually he
overslept by playing `Snooze Tag' so damn much, that
breakfast wasn't possible.  Today, however, it was.  Stephen
smiled at the thought, as he rinsed the shampoo from his
hair.

     Water dripped down the back of Stephen's neck as he
walked down the hallway back to his room.  He rubbed the
droplets away, and searched for his Social Studies text.  He
was sure he put it on the dresser, but it was nowhere to be
found.  Not on his desk either.  With a sudden burst of
inspiration, he checked the dust bunny farm underneath his
bed.  He grabbed it with no small amount of relief - didn't
want to have to pay for another missing text.  The last time
he lost a textbook  -- by leaving it at a baseball diamond
after a quick after-school game and returning to find it
destroyed by rain -- he had to pay for the damn thing out of
his allowance.  That would pretty much kill his fun money
budget.
     He placed the text in his backpack, and walked towards
the guestroom.  Allison should be awake by now.
     He was looking forward to giving her a morning kiss.

     As he entered the room the first thing he noticed was
the absence of snoring.  That struck him as strange -
Allison snored so loudly sometimes it sounded like the low
grumbling mating call of a whale.  He smirked at the
thought.  Soft rays of sunshine tumbled over the green down
comforter as he reached for it and pulled it off her head.
Her hair was disheveled from tossing and turning during the
night - one part near the back was sticking up like
Alfalfa's hair.  Stephen grunted softly at the thought.
     He nudged her gently in the shoulder, expecting her to
slap at his hand  and grumble to let her sleep some more .
just a few minutes - she could skip breakfast.  No response.
He pushed at her again.  Nothing.
     A slight twinge of panic surfaced in the pit of
stomach.  He ignored it as he called her name - softly at
first, and then louder.  She lay as motionless as a
mannequin in front of him.  He slapped her gently on the
face.  No response.  The twinge in his stomach returned with
a vengeance - bringing a twittering heartbeat with it.  A
small tick pulsed above his right eye.
     "Allison!!!  Wake up!" he yelled - the sound echoing
off the walls.  He could hear his parents stirring in the
next room as they awakened to see what the yelling was
about.
     They appeared at the door of the guest room, eyes still
slightly swollen from sleep.  His dad approached the bed,
the tie from his blue terrycloth robe swinging as he walked
over.  His mom joined him.  They both were wearing masks of
worry and confusion - their eyes flashing concern as they
stared at Stephen.  He was sobbing and rocking back and
forth as he sat beside Allison.  He was moaning softly as
his fingers gently ran through her hair.
     He turned as he heard his parents come into the room.
     "She won't wake up.  What's wrong with her?  She was
fine last night!"  His voice cracked at the end, his raw
throat betraying him.  He kept rocking back and forth and
stroked her hair.  He repeated her name over and over as if
it were a mantra.
     The paralysis of shock wore off and his dad rushed over
to the next room and called 9-1-1.  Stephen moaned softly
and lay beside her.  A soft ray of sunshine drifted over the
bed as a single tear rolled down his face.  It dripped off
his cheek and tumbled to the pillow below.
                                                 
    
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