Chapter 12: Do you want him to find us that easily
Michael was hovering beside one sphere when Julia reached him. Close up the mirroring became transparent and you could see what was going on inside, even if it was a little misty. In this particular case a balding, fat, middle-aged man was surrounded by beautiful, mostly naked Las Vegas showgirls, complete with feathers and heavily exaggerated silicon breasts. Michael shook his head. "I hope I never start having dreams that tacky," he remarked, and then floated off toward another dreamscape.
The second dreamscape Michael looked in was quite different. It was dark and the interior appeared to be composed of alleyways and side streets. There did not seem to be anyone in the dream, but Michael realised that there had to be. "There's no one there," he said, hoping to provoke an explanation from Julia.
"She's hiding," Julia replied.
"From us?"
"She doesn't know we're here. You can't see out from inside; in fact there doesn't seem to be an outside once you're inside."
"Then who's she hiding from? And where is she?"
"Think, Michael. Use your abilities."
"'Use the Force, Luke'?" he said, grinning. Then he relaxed and let his mind sense the sphere. He could feel another mind, weak, but there. She was hiding in a pile of cardboard boxes at the end of an alley. As Michael discovered her, he also discovered the reason for her fear. A male figure, part of her dream it appeared, was stalking toward her. "She's terrified," he said and, without thinking, pushed through the barrier and into the dreamscape.
"Michael! No..." But it was too late, he was inside. Julia waited outside, watching to see whether he would need help, and hoping she could provide it.
There was a sound of rushing air and then Michael was standing in the alley near the boxes where the woman was hiding. The dark figure was not yet in this alley, but he would be soon and Michael guessed that it would be a bad idea to meet him. He stepped forward, reached into the boxes and grabbed the woman's arm, pulling her out.
She began to scream almost instantly and Michael had to clamp his hand over her mouth. "Do you want him to find us that easily?" he hissed at her. "Come on, before he gets to this alley." He began dragging her toward the alley entrance, his hand still over her mouth. He could feel the stalker getting closer, but concentrated on ignoring the rising panic that was threatening to stop him moving at all. Panic was part of the dream, he realised. Her terror was trying to overwhelm him. He had to keep moving. He turned left at the mouth of the alley, and then left again. The alley turned right after a hundred yards or so and dead ended. "Damn," Michael hissed and turned back.
It was too late. The woman screamed into Michael's hand at the site of the dark figure coming toward them from the way they had come. The man had no features; his face was a dark shadow, a pitch-black mask. He had to be eight feet in height, and heavily muscled. In his right hand was a knife the size of a short sword.
Panic filled Michael's mind like a cloud and he backed up rapidly, dragging the woman with him. He felt a door knob press into his back and reached for it. The door opened and he pushed her inside. He slammed the door and found a key under his fingers. The lock clicked shut just as the stalker slammed into the wood. Breathing hard, Michael backed away. The man hammered on the door for several seconds. They heard the thudding of the knife against the panels. The door was solid oak, however, and the man had no chance. Eventually he stopped.
"He, he'll be looking for another way in," the woman said to Michael through the darkness. The room was black as a coal cellar at midnight and Michael had almost no idea what she looked like or what was in the room. He felt for a switch beside the door, found one, and suddenly light filled the room.
They were standing in a single roomed apartment. It was shabby, but clean. There was a bed, an easy chair, and a small cupboard. To Michael's left was the makings of a kitchen without the walls to close it off, to his right, through a door, he could see a bathroom. There were no windows, and the only door was the one they had come through. That suited Michael fine. With the stalker gone, he was regaining control of his mind, starting to think.
When they had first gone into the alley, the door had not been there. He was sure of that. It had appeared because they needed it. He suspected that the woman would not have found it, indeed she would not have moved from her pile of boxes until the stalker had found her. So the door had been his doing. It made sense, this was a dreamscape, and he was a lucid dreamer. He should be able to change things if he could control the emotions that this place provoked. He turned to look at his companion.
She was standing in a corner as far away from him, and the door, as she could get. He had to do a double-take at the outfit she was dressed in, a white halter top designed to show off her ample cleavage, red hot pants and black, knee length boots. He recognised it as the uniform the waitresses wore at a local bar, but he could not understand why someone would dream themselves wearing it. The woman herself was black, attractive, with cropped hair and a curvaceous figure. She looked to be a few years older than Michael, but he would have happily dated her if he could have got the chance. The only thing that marred her appearance was the twin streams of tears running down her cheeks, taking her mascara with them.
Michael went to the bathroom, returning with a damp cloth. He handed it to her. "Here, wipe your face."
"Th-thanks." She used the cloth, wiping away the black stains. Then she looked up at him. "Why are you helping me? No one helps me."