Redemption (2 page)

It was eerie,
walking down that deserted street, past empty storefronts with sad, decaying
displays of clothes and jewelry, and all the material things that should have
drawn flocks of shoppers.  She passed a display of old, dusty mannequins that
had seen better days.  Their blank faces gave her chills.

She reached the
warehouse and stood looking up at its massive wooden doors.  They were worn and
battered, the dark wood studded with wrought iron hinges longer than her
forearm.  There was a thin slit of light coming from within.  The cat was gone
again, probably returned to the shadows in the alley. 

The wind picked
up and she shivered.  At least the old building would be shelter.  She placed
her hands on the doors and pushed, stumbling forward as they swung inward much
easier than she had expected.

Rebecca’s eyes were
dazzled by what she found inside.  The doors swung shut behind her with a bang,
and she was left standing inside the brightly lit building.  It was industrial
chic, with tall ceilings boasting exposed beams and pipes over polished wood
floors.  People in black suits bustled here and there, never looking her way. 
The entire place hummed with efficiency like a giant corporate machine. 

Rebecca had been
too stunned to notice people approaching.  Two black-clad figures grasped her
arms on either side and hustled her down a corridor.  Her sneakers squeaked on
the gleaming floor.  “What’s going on here?” she demanded.

The man and
woman on either side of her didn’t reply.  They couldn’t, because they were
featureless, an empty black spot where their faces should have been.  She
struggled and dug in her heels, but they dragged her along to a small,
classy-looking room and deposited her onto an overstuffed loveseat.  The door
shut behind them and she heard the distinctive snick of a lock.

~~~~~

Rebecca forced down
her fear and resolved to wait it out.  It was a dream, nothing more.  So far,
nothing really
bad
had happened to her.  The room was comfortable, if
rather empty.  There was a sense of hustle and bustle beyond the confines of
the little room, but it felt distant and removed.  Rebecca could almost imagine
that she was waiting patiently for some sort of meeting, just as she’d done
countless times during her divorce.  She sat patiently, waiting for whatever
was going to happen next.

It wasn’t long
before the door opened and someone entered.  Rebecca sat up, her back ramrod
straight, fear shooting like electricity from her head to her toes.  A figure
had entered the room, closing the door behind him without a sound.  He didn’t fit
in at all.  He was wearing jeans that hung off his skinny frame, and a black
hoodie.  His appearance was jarring compared to the black business suits of the
others she had seen, and yet he commanded her attention. 

His hood was
pulled up, and her eyes couldn’t penetrate the darkness beneath it.  She was
immediately convinced that she didn’t
want
to see under that hood.  The
long white fingers that were briefly visible when he- it- closed the door were
unnerving enough, pale and skeletal, with bluish green shadows in the hallows
of tendon and bone.

Rebecca pushed
herself back into to the couch cushions as it approached.  It- he- sat down
opposite her, and the disjointed motion reminded her of a skeleton.  “Welcome
to my little… game,” a deep, raspy voice said from the depths of the hood.

She gave a
nervous laugh.  “Some game.”  She squared her shoulders.  This was just a dream
after all.  No reason to be frightened.  “Look, I know I’m dreaming,” she said
bluntly.  “So you don’t scare me.”

The man beneath
the hood was quiet for a moment, and she had the distinct impression that he
was smiling, laughing at her show of bravado.  “You’re half right, though I
could argue with you about the fear,” he rasped out with what sounded like
amusement.  “If this is only a dresm, why is it that you can’t just wake up and
escape…take yourself home to your nice, safe little life?”

She gritted her
teeth.  “I don’t know.  But I suppose since my mind conjured you up, you’re
going to tell me.”

The hooded thing
made a horrible wheezing sound that she could only hope was laughter.  “Again,
you’re half right.”  It tucked it’s long, skeletal fingers into the sleeves of
its baggy sweatshirt, which was all the time looking less like a shirt and more
like a robe. 

“You and I are
going to play.”  She didn’t like that.  She couldn’t imagine what this creature
would call fun.  “In order to free yourself from this…
dream
… of yours,
you need to find the key.” 

She snorted, and
the creature paused.  Rebecca waved him on, suppressing a grin.  “Oh, of
course.  The mystical quest.”

“You have…”  It
turned its head this way and that, as if listening to something she couldn’t
hear, “five days to find this key.  At the end of that time,” and this time she
knew
it was grinning, “death will visit your waking life.”

Rebecca tried to
brush this off, to laugh of the absurdity of her situation, but she couldn’t. 
Icicles formed in her chest as she recalled, quite vividly, the little bottle
of pills that sat on her nightstand.

The hooded
figure stood, and his sweatshirt was longer, hanging down to his knees,
unfurling as he moved.  By the time he reached the door, the shirt had become a
robe.  The black-clad figure turned it’s empty, faceless hood toward her and
fear skittered down her spine as she remembered his words- that death would
visit her.  It seemed that death was already here.  It paused, with its
skeletal white hand on the doorknob.

“I’ll give you
some advice,” said the deep, raspy voice.  “You aren’t the only one who shares
this dream.  Very close- in this warehouse at this very moment- you might find
an…ally?”

The figure
ghosted out the door, his unseen feet barely making a whisper of sound on the
polished floor.  Rebecca stood, her hands fisted at her side as urgency rose up
in her despite her desire to believe that it was all a dream.  A key?  There
was something she had to find.  But where?  How the heck would she know where
to look? 

She recalled the
piercing blue eyes of the man she had met on the street. 
Are you real? 
He’d
asked her.  And he’d headed here, toward this warehouse. 

She pushed
herself into motion, hurried to the door and rushed out into the hallway.  When
she crossed the threshold, her heart gave a lurch and she windmilled her arms
to keep her balance.  The hallway was there, and the dark-haired man from the
street was standing just a few feet from where she had emerged.  But there was
a look of shock on his white face.  His wide blue eyes found hers in silent
terror. 

The floor was
there, but beyond them- where the other side of the hallway should be- was a
vast pair of wooden doors suspended in thin air.  They were the same robin’s
egg blue as the sky beyond, with curls of white scrollwork reminiscent of the
clouds.  In any other situation, Rebecca would have taken time to admire the
beauty of the portal.  As it was, she wasn’t given the chance.  She opened her
mouth to speak, to ask what the hell was going on here, but an icy hand pushed
her forward, and a raspy voice spoke in her ear. 

“Go on then. 
You only have five days.  Tick-tock!” 

Then she was
falling through the door.

R
ebecca hit the
ground with a thump and the world slowly righted itself.  She was sprawled in
the sand.  She heard a muffled groan from nearby, almost drown out by the
thunder of surf.  She levered herself into a sitting position and pushed the
thick, tangled blonde hair out of her face.  The dark-haired guy spit out a
mouthful of sand and wiped his face on his sleeve. 

He looked around
and noticed her watching him.  “For a dream, this feels pretty damned real.” 
He ruffled his hair, sending a shower of sand her way.  More sand flew as he
stood, and she shielded her eyes.  “Oh…sorry.”

Rebecca lowered
her arm and squinted up at the man, who was now offering her a hand up.  “I
suppose you’re the companion I’m supposed to find?”  His voice was wry.  “Come
on.  You aren’t hurt, are you?”

She took his
hand and stood, dropping it again almost immediately.  She was still waiting
for him to turn into some sort of monster. 

“I’m Isaac, by
the way,” he said glancing at her and then away, out over the vast stretch of
beach. 

The scene was
different than the one she had started in, the water grey and uninviting, huge
waves crashing on sharp outcroppings of rock.  This wasn’t a place to spend a
sunny afternoon lying out. 

Rebecca gazed
for a moment at the handsome man standing next to her, then she moved closer,
studying him, looking for flaws.  He seemed taken aback by her nearness, but
didn’t say anything as she walked around him.  She reached out a finger and
poked at his arm.  He felt solid enough.  She glanced up to find him staring
down his long nose at her, those crystal blue eyes slightly crossed.  “What are
you doing?”

She sighed. 
“Trying to figure out if you’re real.  But you can’t be, can you?  I mean- this
is a dream.”

He laughed. 
“I’m real.”  Shaking his head, he gestured at the scene around them.  “I don’t
know how this works,” he said, “but I’m pretty sure we’re both dreaming.”

Rebecca frowned,
then waved away her concern.  “Whatever.  I suppose it doesn’t matter.  It’s
not like any of this is real.”  Her hair whipped across her face and she
twisted it into a knot at the nape of her neck.  When that was done, she sighed
and put her hands on her hips. 

“I’m supposed to
find a key, or whatever.  I guess the sooner I do that, the better.”  She
glanced around, wondering just where in the world she was supposed to start. 
“Is that what the hooded guy told you too?”

Isaac frowned. 
“No.  He told me to find you.”  He shrugged.  “I found you.  It wasn’t much
work.  And I’m still stuck here, so I guess that means I’m supposed to help
you?”

Rebecca
shrugged.  “Maybe.”

He stuffed his
hands into his pockets.  “Well, where to…uh, what’s your name?”

Rebecca looked
around.  Behind them was nothing but dense forest and rocky cliffs.  The beach
stretching to either side seemed to be the only option.  She couldn’t make out
much of the coastline before it was swallowed up by distant fog.  “This way, I
suppose.  It’s looks as good as anything else.  And it’s Rebecca.”  She set off
to the right, Isaac following along behind.

“
Rebecca of Sunnybrook
Farm
,” Isaac said jovially.  Rebecca ignored him. 

They walked on
in silence for some time, their eyes constantly roving over the sand and sea. 
“There’s nothing here,” Rebecca said in exasperation.  “It’s just endless sand
and fog.  There’s no road or path, or anything- it just goes on forever!  How
am I supposed to find a key?  Is it buried in the sand somewhere?”

Isaac snorted. 
“I hope not.”

 If it was,
there was no way she would find it.  Five days wouldn’t be enough time to sift
through all the sand- five years maybe.  And still, the beach stretched on and
on.

“Why do you
think we’re here together?” she said distractedly.  It seemed strange.  Was she
really sharing a dream with some random stranger?

Isaac shrugged. 
“I don’t know.”  He had been looking down at the sand as they walked, but now
he turned to look at her.  “I mean- I don’t um…know you from anywhere, do I?”

Rebecca raised
her eyebrows as he studied her face.  “Well?”

He shrugged
again and returned to studying the sand.  “I don’t know.  I can’t remember.”

Rebecca
frowned.  She
was
rather forgettable.  “What do you mean, you don’t
know?”  She slanted a look at him.  “Do you know so many women that you can’t
keep them all straight?”  Highly likely.  The man was impossibly attractive.  
Rebecca silently praised her powers of imagination.

He looked at
her, startled.  “No…I mean…well, I know a lot of people, okay?”  He seemed
angry.

“Well, I’ve
never seen
you.
”  She was sure.  No way could you forget a guy this
pretty.  Plus he had this kind of
pull
to him.  She would certainly
remember that.  Besides,
she
didn’t
know a lot of people
.

 “There’s got to
be a reason why we’re in this together,” she said after a moment.  “What do you
do for a living?”

He gave her a
bland smile.  “I’m an artist.”

Rebecca thought
about that for a minute.  “I don’t know anything about art.”

He shrugged. 
“What do you do for a living?”

Rebecca looked
at the cliffs.  “I work in food service.”  It sounded a lot better than the
truth, which was that she waited tables at a place that was half greasy diner,
half dive bar. 

“Do you run a
restaurant or something?  I suppose we could have met there?”  His voice was
hopeful.

She shrugged
neutrally.  “I suppose it’s possible, but so what?  That still doesn’t explain
why…”