Fragments - Book One of the Missing

Chapter 13 - Taniel

They were laughing outside. Finally letting go of every part of their lives that made their hearts heavy and their happiness bleak. His arm was extended, holding him off the wall while he leaned closer to her. Only inches were left between their faces. He could feel her breath on his lips. Her back pressed against the wall, and she laughed at something he just said. Being the person who made her happy, however temporary, made him unreasonably happy.

It felt too good to be the guy without a care in the world.

"Rowan!" a small voice called. They both jumped. A cold fear flooded him, and he shuddered at the onslaught. Rowan moved further away, putting distance between them as if nothing were happening. Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. But it was nothing but a raven landing in the alley.

"Olive!" Rowan shrieked. Her voice went through him. Something felt wrong. He watched her with intensity, feeling strangely protective of a girl he had met recently. "Is everything okay? Are you okay?" Sudden fear passed over Rowan's face, her eyes went wide, her mouth slack. "Please tell me you girls haven't been looking for me."

While he stared at Rowan, he missed Olive's own expression. Olive made for her sister across the alley. But he didn't care. He cared for Rowan whose face was twisted in conflict. He knew she had been aching to see her sisters, but she also must have been terrified to see her sister out so late. And alone.

He knew Rowan would do anything to keep her sisters safe, and out of the crossfire with the Officials. They had to get Olive home.

He heard Olive crying, but he didn't turn. He was still looking at Rowan. He tried to imagine her anguish, stuck between two impossible choices. He was distracted. He didn't see Olive freeze in mid stride. But half a second later he saw the terror on Rowan's face. He turned to see Olive, floating above the ground, frozen as if she were a movie on pause. Too slow to act, he again watched as Rowan sprinted to her sister, unaware, or uncaring, of what dangers lurked beyond.

A man stepped out of the shadows behind Olive and Taniel called to Rowan to stop. Rowan didn't see the man, nor did she care for Taniel's warnings. She had eyes for her sister alone. But he did. The man was wearing a lean suit, and sharp hat. His face still hid in the shadows.

Taniel took a few strides to block him, but with a flick of his hand, both Rowan and Taniel went flying across the alley, clean off the ground and hit the end building at the end of the street with a sickening crunch. Before he could puzzle over how it happened, he had to make the decision - Rowan or Olive? Rowan was knocked out beside him, but was definitely still breathing. Olive then. She was in more immediate danger. And he knew what Rowan would want him to do.

He scrambled to his feet. Despite the pounding in his head, he ran harder. Fear pulsed through his body, bile rose like a wave in his throat. The adrenaline pushed him harder than he would have thought possible. His lungs ached, and his legs screamed in protest at the bruises already forming from his collision with the back wall.

By the time he reached Olive, she was growing fainter, still floating above the ground. She radiated the heat of a bonfire, such that it burned to get closer. His stride faltered and his mouth dried. He couldn't give up.

But then, as if it never existed, the heat evaporated. And with it, so did Olive. Taniel was enveloped in a bone-chilling darkness. It took a second to adjust, but he already knew what happened. Olive was gone. She was Missing.

"You picked the wrong side of the war, Taniel," A soft and assured voice spoke to him. He whirled to face the tall, lean man hidden in shadow. His voice struck a chord. Familiar even. Taniel's mind raced at the possibilities.

Sobbing from the back of the alley drew his attention. Rowan was sitting up, leaning against the uneven brick wall, unsteady and emotional. He turned back to the man, but he had disappeared. There was nothing, nothing he could do.

****

He jumped out of bed. The sweat poured down his face, but his body shivered. It was by far the worst and most vivid dream he had ever had. Pieces of the puzzle started snapping together.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, his mind reeled. His reality seemed to be falling apart. He needed to count the tiles. Where were the damn tiles? His breathing hitched, his heart wouldn't slow down. He needed to do something. He couldn't let the anxiety get the best of him. It was just a dream, Taniel.

He ran to the window, and pressed his sweaty forehead and nose to the glass. If he couldn't count tiles, he would find something else. And as he counted the buildings, the infinite number of buildings in Fenesmere, he finally felt the iron fist holding him loosen. His breathing evened.

With the dream still fresh in his mind, but his anxiety mollified for now, he rummaged for a lose bit of charcoal. A blank stretch of wall opposite the bed would serve as the perfect canvas.

The second the charcoal touched the wall, his eyes glazed over and his hand took control. He was vaguely aware of large sweeping movements, a dull ache in his knees. At one point he thought he heard Scooter behind him, calling out. But he couldn't focus on him. And eventually the calling abated.

The chalk grew smaller and smaller, until it was just a small stub in his fingers. The trance lasted for minutes, hours, days. He didn't know, nor cared. A tap on the shoulder, slow at first, then more insistent finally pulled him out of his reverie. He snapped.

"What?" he said, louder than he intended.

"Gills, your fingers are bleeding."

They both looked at his hand, covered in blood and charcoal. Then suddenly the tips of his fingers throbbed. He didn't feel the pain until he saw the damage. Taniel looked to the wall, expecting to find the dream.

But the scene, in all its glory, was not of the alleyway kidnapping. Rather, the relatively small scene was a monochromatic depiction of the ever-colorful corner of Adams and Garner. It was monochromatic except for where traces of his blood mingled with the black. It gave the formerly lively corner an eerie feel.

"This is amazing, Gills. Why didn't you tell me you could draw like that?" Scooter looked at him, expecting an answer. When Taniel just stared back his eyes narrowed. "Is this what happens when you dream?"

Taniel sighed. "Unfortunately. But this felt different — usually it is a variation of the same image. This," he gestured to the wall, "I have never dreamed before. I've just seen it a thousand times when I was growing up."

"Is that girl always there too?" Scooter asked, pointing to the lowest corner.

"What do you mean?" Then he saw what, no who, Scooter was talking about. It was the girl. "This is not just Adams and Garner— this is a particular moment."

There she was, the girl from the market and his dreams standing on the corner, staring at the Missing posters. Rowan. He cringed at the fact he knew her name. One piece at a time, the puzzle was revealing itself. He felt desperately afraid his nightmare would become real. Everything was becoming too real.

Scooter interrupted his doom and gloom. "Well, sounds like it is time for an adventure. Grab your coat, Gills. We are going to Adams and Garner."

Adventure and mystery were the last things he needed. A loud groan escaped his lips.