Awoken (The Lucidites Book 1) Page 3

  I fade into nothingness until I can’t ignore him beside me any longer. His long fingers reach over and tug my chin in his direction. He tilts my face upward. My eyes find his. They’re blue. So blue, even behind his black-rimmed glasses. I sink into them, feeling an unfamiliar draw. He flashes a pen light in my eyes. I jump. Betrayed. The guy sighs loudly. “We almost lost you.”

  I hiccup, holding my soaked and freezing arms. “I don’t understand,” I say, rousing from my sleeping state. “I made it here.” I point to where I was moments ago. “I was lying on the ground there.”

  He shakes his head, his spiky, dark brown hair unresponsive to the movement. “Yeah, your consciousness made it. That’s just the first step. If we didn’t get your body here then it would have drowned.” He’s standing now. Extending his hand, he reaches out for me. I hesitate before wrapping my fingers around his and letting him pull me into an upright position. Tentatively he peers at me sideways. “Didn’t Shuman tell you that?”

  “Nah,” I say, shivering. “She didn’t mention it. She was too busy telling me I was probably going to die trying.”

  “Well, you almost did,” Mr. Blue Eyes says frankly. His gaze focuses on a computer screen in the corner again and relief spreads over him. His urgent manner has disappeared, replaced with an expression I can only describe as endearing.

  “My name’s Aiden.” He extends his hand. I eye it cautiously and then bring my gaze up to his eyes. Dark blue outlines a softer sapphire. “I take it you’re Roya.”

  My hands and arms aren’t transparent anymore. I’m solid. “Wait, so this is my body?” I ask, confused, never shaking his hand.

  “I sure hope so.” Aiden laughs, looking down at my soaked jeans and bare feet. “Or otherwise I’ve got some explaining to do.”

  “Am I still dream traveling?”

  “Nope, you’re awake.”

  I scrunch up my face, more confused than ever.

  Aiden looks at a printout on a tiny device he’s picked up and then flashes me a grin. “Shuman should have really explained this. No wonder you were so confused when I was yelling at you. Sorry about that.”

  I want to say something, but my voice is caught in my throat. I manage a meek smile through my chattering teeth.

  Aiden takes a plush blanket off a stack and wraps it around my shoulders. “Here.”

  I pull it around me like it’s fuel and I’m fire. “Thank you,” I manage between the waning shivers.

  “When you dream travel you leave your body where you fell asleep, right?”

  I nod.

  “Well, that would be all good and well, except you left your body submerged in water while you dream traveled. If you left it there it would certainly die. And without your body your consciousness would survive like a ghost, but not for long. Anyway, the best way to get around this is with our handy dandy GAD-C.” Aiden swipes his hand in a large movement, apparently to show that half the room is this device. “The generateur automatique de corp. It automatically generates your body.” He shrugs, his bright blue eyes betraying his enthusiasm. “It’s actually more complicated than that, but it worked and that’s all you should be concerned with, since without it you would have died.”

  I’m still shivering, still exhausted, still confused.

  “It’s probably time I told someone you’ve arrived,” he says, an edge of reluctance in his voice. Aiden picks up a telephone receiver and after a few seconds says, “Yeah, Roya’s here.” Inexplicably I like the way he says my name. It sounds soft in his mouth. After that single sentence he hangs up the receiver.

  “Someone will be here momentarily to fetch you,” he says, hurrying over to the computer in the corner. He begins typing, flicking his eyes to me every so often.

  Nervousness sets into my chest as the aching slowly recedes. I have no idea what to expect next or what’s happening with my family. For a second I consider questioning Aiden but he looks engrossed in his work. I wrap my fingers around the blanket and pull it tighter.

  A minute later an automatic door slides back, disappearing into the wall. At the flash of red hair I reflexively straighten. Oh no. The last person I want to see.

  “Well, look who has decided to join us.” Ren smiles, but he doesn’t look especially happy to see me either. His emerald green eyes almost appear dark in this room. The first time I met him I studied those eyes, searching them for honesty. His crow’s feet made me think he was wise, could be trusted. I was wrong.

  “You’re late,” he sneers, his British accent making the offense sound atrocious. “I should have guessed. Come on already, follow me.”

  I turn back to Aiden, searching for a way out. He shrugs, only half looking at me.

  I slide off the table and push my toes forward, but my body is sluggish and doesn’t readily respond to the commands from my brain. It takes an eternity to reach the door. Ren has already bolted down the outer corridor and is standing looking at me with exaggerated contempt. Again I’ve pissed him off; maybe I’ve actually done something this time or it’s just my very nature of breathing that’s setting him off. Hard to tell.

  I turn back at the threshold. Aiden is typing away at a computer station. He looks busy. Focused.

  “Hey,” I call to him, “thanks for saving my life and all.”

  He’s still typing on his computer, engrossed in whatever he’s working on. I turn and head toward Ren. A few steps down the corridor I hear Aiden sing, “Just doing my job.”

  Chapter Four

  Ren shoots down a narrow silver hallway. Since I’ve just dislodged a gallon of water from my lungs it’s difficult to keep up. I hardly have time to take in the corridor we’re moving through. The walls and ceiling are brushed stainless steel. The floor is a strange aquamarine, with a shimmering effervescence.

  “Where are we going?” I pant. “Can you slow down?”

  “’Fraid not, missy. I’m trying to get you to orientation before it’s over.” He gives me a sideways glance. “You still mad at me for scratching you at our last meeting?”

  “Scratching me? You stabbed me with a filthy pocket knife.” I pull up my sleeve to show the fresh gash which is destined for infection. Who knows where that knife has been or how many other people he’s cut with it.

  “Blimey, stop being so dramatic. All I did was give you what you asked for.”

  “I asked for proof that I was dream traveling, not an injury,” I seethe.

  “But you knew it was real when you awoke, didn’t you?” he leers.

  We’re still hurrying through the hallway when a stabbing pain splinters through my side. I stop and double over. “Look, I’m sorry if I’m going to be late to some orientation. I’ve got to rest for a second,” I say between wheezing attempts to breathe. We’ve already walked a long distance. How big is this place?

  “I don’t think you’ll want be tardy to orientation, that’s all I’m saying,” Ren says, checking his watch.

  I wrap the blanket tighter around my shoulders. My frustration rises to the surface and erupts. “I’m the challenger,” I argue, pointing at myself. “I’ve decided to risk my life for this whole mess. I think I can be a tad late to this stupid orientation.”

  Ren bites his lip, a look of mischief in his green eyes. “Yes, Challenger, you’re right.” He holds up his hands as if surrendering. “Your call. I’m just trying to help.”

  “Yeah, right.” I sigh and start walking forward again, but this time at my own slower pace.

  Ren lets me walk off a few steps before ambling up next to me. “Let me guess, you’re probably also peeved that I did that whole projection business on you. Is that right?”

  “You think?” I first met Ren while I was dream traveling. Trey had arranged the meeting. However, I got lost in a strange apartment building in London. Ren sent a projection of my cat to steer me in the right direction. He knew I’d follow that cat, not just because he was mine, but because he’d recently been murdered—by Zhuang.

  The projection of my
dead cat led me to a room where I found Ren, looking bored and irritated. “Finally,” he said, when I tentatively made my way into the darkened room. “Oh stop being so cautious. I’m not going to bite you,” he said flashing an evil grin at me. “Name’s Ren. I’m the Head Strategist for the Lucidites. Trey sent me to fill in some of your missing gaps. Apparently, you’re still in need of convincing.” He slid his hand into his trouser pocket and retrieved a silver pocket knife. Without taking his eyes off me he opened the blade and began cleaning his nails. “Here’s how it’s going to go. You currently don’t think the dream travel with Trey last night was real. You’ve probably spent most the day explaining the whole thing away. Now you’re here with me and the doubt is starting to recede and give way to belief, but you’re not there yet. I’m going to fill your consciousness with enough information and by the time we finish our little chat you’re going to be convinced this whole thing is real.” Ren looked down at his nails, admiring them. “’Cause it is.”

  “So this,” I made a broad motion, “this is all real? It isn’t a dream?”

  “The furniture is real, this place is real, I’m real, and you’re really, really here with me right now. So to answer your question, yes.”

  I nodded and chewed on my lip.

  “Well, the cat,” Ren said, “he actually wasn’t real. He was a projection.”

  Letting the memory wash away I stomp beside Ren through the strange hallway of the Institute. “Did you really have to use my deceased cat like that when we first met?” I say.

  Ren turns a corner and I have no choice but to follow him. “Using your dead pet was the easiest way to lead you to me,” he says.

  “Hmm,” I muse. “Because finding me like a normal human being would be too difficult?” I lose my breath as our pace quickens gradually. “And my cat wasn’t dead before all this mess.”

  “And thanks to us, you aren’t resting with it.” He stops abruptly and turns to me, swiping a finger over his lips. “Shame too, ’cause you’d fit so nicely in a shoe box or whatever you bury inconsequential pests in these days.”

  I bunch up my nose as though the air smells rancid.

  “By the way.” He yawns loudly and points his head to the door beside him. “You’re in there.” His hand hovers over a button to the right of the door. “Oh, and one quick, tiny thing Shuman forgot to mention.”

  I stop and stare into his cold eyes with sudden dread.

  “You aren’t exactly the challenger.” He puts air quotes on the last two words. “You’re more or less on the list of potential challengers. For some strange reason she omitted this part. Silly girl.”

  “What?!” Horror rips through me. “How many other people are on this list?”

  Ren taps the button, shoving me into a crowded auditorium. “Only one way to find out, luv.” He steps back and the door shuts.

  I stand frozen. Row upon row of faces gape at me. The auditorium is silent except for a few drops of water that drip from my jeans. They sound like drum beats. I push a few pieces of wet hair that have clung to my face back behind my ear and feign a smile. My vision tunnels for several seconds as at least a hundred eyes gape at me with interest. Suddenly I’m burning hot. I let the blanket drape off my shoulders.

  “Welcome, Ms. Stark,” a deep voice says behind me. I jerk and find Trey standing on a stage, staring at me curiously. “I’m pleased that Ren has safely delivered you to us.” He offers me a small smile. The rush of familiarity washes over me, just like the first time I met him. “We were just getting started. Maybe you can find a seat at the back,” Trey says before turning his attention back to the crowd.

  I hug the wall and carefully move up the steps. Finding an empty row, I slip into the first seat. People around me whisper, turning back to gawk. Great, this is just like high school.

  Trey clears his throat. “Where was I?” He thinks for a second and then continues, “Right, welcome. I’m Trey Underwood, the Associate Head Official for the Lucidite Institute. Flynn, the Head of the Institute, regrets that he’s unable to be here, but he has other matters to attend to.”

  Who’s Flynn?

  “I know it’s difficult to enter the Institute, but please know that now you’re in a secure place.” Trey’s eyes flicker in my direction.

  “Now, as you all know, you’re here because you were forecast as the potential challenger to face Zhuang.”

  No, some of us didn’t know that.

  “Each of your names was recorded by a news reporter over two decades ago because one of you has a fate tied to Zhuang’s. That person is the one we choose as our challenger. You see, time isn’t linear, especially if you’re a Dream Traveler, which I realize is a new idea to some of you.” He stops, gauging the crowd. “Our next step is to determine which one of you will be the challenger. Additionally, six alternates will be chosen to assist or replace if necessary, should something occur.”

  The crowd rustles uncomfortably. I take this opportunity to look around and notice how analogous this group is. Everyone’s between the ages of fourteen and eighteen. Most wear the same navy blue T-shirt. My partially wet white shirt and mane of knotted, blonde hair stand out in this room, pulling curious eyes to me repeatedly.

  Trey continues, “We’ve set up a series of tasks which you’ll all complete tomorrow. Your performance will be scored. The person with the highest score will be our challenger. The next six highest scores will be alternates. It’s pretty simple. Those who aren’t chosen can return home. The challenger and alternates will begin training immediately.”

  Trey picks up a remote and clicks it once. A row of words materializes in the air beside him. “First, find your name on this list under one of the different headings. They will indicate the room in which you’ll be staying. In this room you’ll find your group’s schedule for tomorrow. Please locate your group and room number and go there now.” Trey bows before walking off stage. From our first visit I appreciated how concise and delicate he was when he spoke. As I watch his retreating back I’m torn, because now I also know he employs a bunch of liars.

  Half the group claps in a noncommittal fashion. The rest of us stare in a daze. I locate my name in the third group. There’s four. I’m in room number 300. People file through an exit at the back of the room. As I descend the stairs a realization washes over me making my eyes narrow resentfully. Ren could have snuck me in through this back entrance. Instead he thought it would be funny to prance me soaking wet and confused in front of my competition. That redheaded, British jerk.

  Back in the silver hallway, the smell of citrus and mint tingles my nose with the urge to sneeze. This combination of scents reeks of artificial cleanliness.

  Some kids file in the opposite direction or drop off. I follow the rest of the group into an elevator. I don’t make eye contact or even pay the least bit of attention to anyone. For the rest of my life I want to mind my own business and have everyone leave me alone. It’s a big request, but I’m a heartless optimist. This combination could make me lethal, but mostly it has led to a successful hermit lifestyle.

  When the elevator arrives I hang back to let everyone get off first. I march, forcing my breath to slow as anger burns in my veins. I’ve been waiting for it to erupt and it happens about the time my humiliation fades.

  A guy with spiky blond hair stops to tie his shoe. When he stands back up and continues walking he’s in stride with me.

  “Hey there,” he says light-heartedly.

  “Hey,” I manage.

  He wears the navy blue T-shirt everyone else is wearing. On the front is an eye and around it a squiggly circle. Underneath that are the words “Focus=Life.” I laugh to myself. Are the Lucidites branding us like we’re their Olympians? I won’t be caught dead in one of those shirts.

  “You just got here?” the boy asks with a subtle southern drawl.

  “Didn’t realize I was late to the party,” I say a bit more resentfully than I intend.

  “Not sure if you’ve checked, but
no one’s really partying.” A reluctant smile tugs at his mouth. “I just got here myself. I beat you by about ten or fifteen minutes. That was enough time for Shuman to throw me a T-shirt and get me to orientation. She’s such a sweetheart, isn’t she?”

  Bile washes up my throat. It tastes bitter in my mouth. I swallow hard, pushing the tension I’m carrying to the bottom of my stomach. I decide it wise to keep my mouth shut about Shuman, Ren, and just about everything else Lucidite. Faking a smile, I sing, “Yeah, she’s fabulous.”

  “My name’s Joseph.”

  “Good for you,” I say, keeping my eyes on my feet.

  “Should I just call you Ms. Stark?” Joseph prods.

  “Sure,” I allow as we file into our living quarters.

  Chapter Five

  Bunks sit along the two main walls. Why didn’t they just call these barracks? That’s exactly what they are. I half expected I’d be given a room all to myself like what I had at Bob and Steve’s. Instead I find my name neatly written on a sign attached to a bottom bunk. Joseph stops when I do and stares at the sign.

  “You’re Roya?” Joseph gives a triumphant smile and then nods. “I thought so.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean, that you thought so?” I ask.

  “Don’t worry about it.” He scans the room. “I think my bunk is down here.” He strides away, looking smug.

  Neatly folded on top of my bunk is the navy blue T-shirt, a pair of light green scrub-type pants, flip-flops, and a small foam stress ball with the logo neatly printed on it. I shove it all under my bed. This is where it will reside for the entirety of my stay—which will be short.

  The smell of moss and dirt assaults my nostrils, making me cringe. It’s me. I keep my head low while I search for the bathrooms. People chat all around me. As I expected there’s a set of bathrooms at the back. I enter the door marked “Women” and head straight for the shower. Luckily it’s stocked with shampoos and soaps. I’m guessing no one arrived with more than the clothes on their backs.