Fragments - Book One of the Missing

Chapter 2 - Taniel

Taniel didn't know how long he stayed that way before the bus rolled to a stop in front of him. Standing up, he brushed the dirt off his pants and looked apprehensively at the bus. He threw the backpack over his shoulder and climbed aboard, swallowing his needling doubts. The driver took his money and handed back the change without a word.

"Thanks," Taniel mumbled, and stuffed the crumpled money back into his jean's pocket without counting it. He took in the bus as he made his way down the aisle. The only other person besides the driver and himself was an old man staring out the window. Should be a fun ride, he mused.

As he walked past, the man turned and locked eyes with him. The gaze stopping Taniel in his tracks. The hair on his arms stood on end. The old man's eyes were chilling, looking at him as if he could see every thought Taniel ever had. He was exposed, and terrified of what the old man could see. A chill seeped into his bones and he felt raw emotion bubbling to the surface. His vision started to blur, then it went black.

With sudden clarity, he found himself no longer on the bus, but back in his dream. Living it this time.

Taniel was running, arms pumping hard and his lungs screaming for air. His breath was coming rough and fast. Fear's tight fist gripped his heart. What if he could not make it in time? Cutting quickly, he turned the corner in time to see two figures slowly disappearing, as if into thin air. A girl ran with him. But when the two disappeared she fell, hopeless and helpless. His pace slowed as his mind tried to grapple with what just happened.

The girl looked up at him, a single tear running down her face. It was the first time he could clearly see her—auburn hair whipped wildly around her face, her green eyes full of agony. He stopped in front of her, offering to help. She turned her long neck up to him and started to scream.

The image faded, but unlike his typical dream, more scenes in quick succession replaced it.

The same girl hiking in the woods. Her hair the same color of the fall leaves surrounding her.

Drinking a beer, eyes bright and laughing.

Slender hands drawing indecipherable formulas in chalk.

Playing dress up and dancing around a large, opulent bedroom.

Devouring chocolate chip pancakes.

Dancing in a bar.

Climbing the trellis of a brownstone.

Arguing with vendors in The Market.

The meaningless scenes ran into each other like a broken film—the only constants her bright hair and spirit. They gave a face to his dreams. A face that would haunt him forever.

The old man broke the connection and gazed out the window as if nothing had happened. Taniel was left standing there, blinking the images from his eyes, his mouth agape. For the life of him, he was unable to piece together what just happened. He stared at the old man's head of white hair a moment longer before tearing himself away. Stars, the experience affected him more than he cared to admit—his stomach turned inside out, his skin peeled back layer by layer.

With the intention of putting as much space between him and the man as possible, he chose the last row on the bus. Taniel looked to the ceiling, but sighed, finding no tiles to count. He clenched his fists at his own weakness. He should be hardened by now. Instead of dwelling, he focused on his breathing. And despite his uneasiness, his lids began to droop as the bus rolled away from St. Andra's.