The Dreamjumper and The Dreamcatcher

Chapter 13: The enemy wants me?

Alora

When I stop spinning, I hit the ground at the entrance of what looks like some sort of enclosed base camp. It is late at night, but there are golden yellow lights illuminating the gate and the gravel path beyond it. There at the wire gate stands a man dressed in the same black clothes I had seen "Mr. Red-Head" wear in Charlie's dream, his lower face covered by a bandanna. He opens the gate for us, and "Mr. Red-Head" pushes me through it by force and up the gravel road leading to a four-story stone building. Every so often a lamppost lights our way, and I notice more people dressed in the same black clothes walking around the base. They all lack the swords I had seen in the dream. In fact, they give me the impression that they do not carry any weapons at all. I would have thought they would have some type of gun as they patrol the base. But there is no holster at their waist or anything in their hands. They merely round bare-handed around the perimeter, though it's possible their weapons are concealed.

I try to squirm out of "Mr. Red-Head's" grip, but any resistance I give him immediately turns into a feeling of losing the urge to fight. My arms become weak, and my legs fail to move in any other direction that isn't forward. I'm assuming this is all still a dream since we transported here and I have no bodily control. I want to wake up from this nightmare, jump out of here and escape "Mr. Red-Head's" grasp. But I feel tethered to this dream world and my eyes fail to open no matter how much I will myself to wake up. The thought of not being able to escape at will terrifies me. I've always been able to wake myself up from a nightmare in the past, but this feels different. Deep down I know it's not that I can't; "Mr. Red-Head" is preventing me from waking up.

Inside the building we walk into this hallway with doors on either side. I peak through one of the windows on the doors and see a long open room with rows of beds lining the walls. On each bed there is a person sleeping fully attired in their black clothes. On the other side I get a slight peak into a similar looking room. I wonder whether they are all dreamjumpers invading someone else's mind. Seeing this many dreamjumpers in one place possibly infiltrating the dreams of innocent people makes me queasy. I worry for their next victims. Would they fall into the same fate as me?

Now I'm confused as to whether I'm still dreaming or if this is all reality. I know I'm sleeping, but walking into this place gives me the sense that what I'm seeing is more than just a dream. Crazy. But true. Because that's what bad guys usually do, don't they? Take you to their secret bases?

At the end of the hallway there are double doors that lead into an empty cafeteria. Plastic picnic tables are joined together to make long rows facing towards the end where the serving window is closed with a metal shutter. But we don't go into the cafeteria, instead "Mr. Red-Head" takes me down a staircase through a side door and to the basement. Of course, we're going underground probably where they keep their cells so they can lock me up. Keep me as a prize or question me. I don't know. What if they don't know I'm not a dreamjumper? What would they do to me then?

In the basement wee walk into another hallway lined with gray doors, but these don't have windows through which you can look inside. Mr. Red-Head takes me into one of the rooms about four doors down, and only once we are inside and he has shut the door does he let go of his strangulating grip on my arm. I don't know exactly when he changed from the suit he was wearing in my dream to the black clothes that seem to be some type of uniform, but he must have done it at some point. His face is still uncovered, his bandanna laying loosely tied at the base of his neck. The room in which he has brought me into is small, but surprisingly cozy if it is actually a place to hold people hostage. It looks sort of like the counseling room of a psychologist or therapist. On one side there is a cushioned green sofa and opposite to it are two tweed lounge chairs of an ivory color. Between them there is a dark walnut coffee table with a white fluffy rug underneath it. There are even plants in the corners of this windowless room.

"Mr. Red-Head" asks me to sit on the sofa. I do as I'm told though I'm not sure whether it is out of my own volition or if he's still controlling my body with invisible strings like a master puppeteer. Suddenly a hot kettle and mugs appear out of thin air on the coffee table and "Mr. Red-Head" offers to pour me some tea. Yep, this definitely still has to be a dream. He doesn't wait for a response from me but just pours some green tea and slides the mug on a coaster towards me. Then he pours some for himself and holds on to the mug as he sits opposite me.

We sit there in silence for a few moments, him surveying me with curiosity as he leans back comfortably in his seat and me with my back straight as a board staring him down with what I hope is the face of utter disdain.

"You aren't really a dreamjumper, are you Alora?" he asks me.

I feel one of my eyebrows twitch but I say nothing. I don't know what exactly to say. Would he know if I was lying? Or should I pretend to be someone I'm not? I'm terrified of what would happen if I turn out to be the person they are not expecting me to be. I decide on just staying resiliently silent. He doesn't deserve to get any information from me.

"You don't resist at all me manipulating you in the dream, so I know you aren't. But still, you could see me at the park even when I should be invisible to you. Isn't that so?"

Shit. This is why I'm here. Reve's plan must be working a lot better and faster than what he might have anticipated. I'm honestly surprised that I was even able to achieve this feat. Maybe in hindsight I should have stared less at the people I see in dreams. But I didn't think it would lead up to my kidnapping.

"I'm taking that as a yes," continues "Mr. Red-Head." He takes a sip of his tea like the evil mastermind I think him to be. "You are special indeed. Now the question is figuring out how we can use your power. It's bold of the OSA to use random unassuming people against us. We would have been less suspicious of you than an actual dreamjumper. But alas, we can't have you revealing the identity of more of our people."

All resolve of mine to remain outwardly brave dissolves. If I was afraid before, this fear doesn't even begin to compare to what I was feeling. Now my intense need for survival has taken over.

"What are you going to do with me?" I ask in a voice that seems too desperate in my ears. I hate showing him this weakness. It seems like he thinks I'm in some way related to the OSA more than what I am. But I'm not. I basically know nothing of their operations. Would he try to pry information out of me even if truly know nothing? How much does he know about Reve and his plan?

"Mr. Red-Head" stands, placing his mug on the coffee table. "That is still to be determined. There are some unanticipated intricacies about you we need to resolve. But for now, you can relax in this room."

He extends his hand and before me appear a bowl of pretzels and some hummus, and an empty sketchbook open to the first page with graphite drawing pencils beside it. "Have this to eat and entertain yourself."

I stare at the coffee table in disbelief as "Mr. Red-Head" exits the room. I hear a bolt after the door shuts, and I know that I'm locked in here. Now I not only feel trapped; I feel exposed. He was watching me. My body shivers at the thought and I don't touch anything that he leaves me.