The Razgriz Aces [Book 2]

Ice Cage

"They've promised that dreams can come true - but forgot to mention that nightmares are dreams, too."
~Oscar Wilde

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Blaze

I woke up in a thin sheen of sweat, my heart thundering and tears blurring my vision as I relived the nightmare that haunted me in my dreams and in reality. This had been different. All the others had been only myself and my squadron watching Chopper plummet into the stadium, screaming for him while he perished. This time, a voice spoke over the cacophony, breathy and monotone. It said only two words: Prepare yourself.

I tried to tell myself that it was merely my conscience playing on my own beliefs, that the dreams weren't a warning of something terrible to come, but deep down, my gut told me no, it wasn't my imagination, it wasn't my conscience playing tricks on me. It had been a genuine warning that I needed to take seriously.

"What can I do to stop it?" I whispered to whatever higher being might be listening. "I know it's a warning, but surely there's something I can do that I haven't tried in my dream. Tell me what it is so I can protect him. I can't lose him."

My voice cracked at the end, and I squeezed my eyes shut in an attempt to stop the tears from running down my cheeks. I couldn't cry. My squadron would notice instantly, and then there'd be hell trying to get it out of me. My willpower was already hanging on by a precarious thread, and it may cave if my friends and family prodded about my nightmares.

I needed to talk to someone about it, but it couldn't be my squadron or brother. If Bartlett were here, I'd consider going to him, but who knew where he was? If it had been anyone but Bartlett who ejected in the middle of the ocean, I'd say they were most likely dead. But not him. No, he was indestructible. Still, that left him out of the question. Who else on base had experience flying in a war that I liked and, more importantly, trusted?

Pops.

His name popped into my mind, and without giving my brain a chance to overthink the situation or what I was about to divulge, I headed to the hangar where they held the training jets. Pops worked diligently away on something that I would never be able to figure out, but that's not why I was here anyway. Plastering on a cheerful smile, I greeted, "Hey, Pops!"

He looked up in surprise. "Blaze! This is a pleasant surprise. How are you doing?

"I'm okay, and you?"

"I'm doing pretty good. What can I do for you?"

"I, uh- I wanted your opinion on something," I said, suddenly feeling foolish at the words about to come out of my mouth. "This is going to sound pretty weird, but uh, have-have you ever had dreams of... one of your wingmen crashing?"

"Yes, many times. It's all part of being a captain," Pops explained.

"Did the dream ever repeat itself?"

"Once in a while, yes."

"Did... did it ever come true?"

"No." Pops stared at me curiously, setting his wrench down and standing up. Meanwhile, my cheeks flushed from embarrassment as I thought about how stupid I was to believe a dream could be anything more than just that. "These dreams you're having- are they why you can't sleep?"

I nodded, sighing and sitting on the floor with my knees pulled up to my chest. "I can't stop them. No matter what I think of before I go to sleep, it's all I dream about."

"What happens?"

"Long story short? The main one I get is that we're ambushed over a city, Chopper gets hit, and he crashes into a stadium. If the dream switched up with the location or-or where he crashes, I'd say it's my fears playing out in my dreams, but they don't. It's the same thing every time, and I can't stop this feeling in my stomach that it's a warning of what's coming." I massaged my forehead, hoping to rid myself of the stress headache. My attempt was futile. "I feel like I'm going crazy."